To exist is a habit I do not despair of acquiring.

Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.

Everything turns on pain; the rest is accessory, even nonexistent, for we remember only what hurts. Painful sensations being the only real ones, it is virtually useless to experience others.

To Foreswear vengeance is to chain oneself to forgiveness, to flounder in pardon, to be tainted by the hatred smothered within.

The source of our actions resides in an unconscious propensity to regard ourselves as the center, the cause, and the conclusion of time. Our reflexes and our pride transform into a planet the parcel of flesh and consciousness we are.

Philosophy: Impersonal anxiety; refuge among anemic ideas.

One doesn't live in a country, one lives in a language.