Every profound dissatisfaction is of a religious nature: our failures derive from our incapacity to conceive of paradise and to aspire to it, as our discomforts from the fragility of our relations with the absolute.

Maniacs of Procreation, bipeds with devalued faces, we have lost all appeal for each other.

No position is so false as having understood and still remaining alive.

Nothing is so wearing as the possession or abuse of liberty.

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

Revenge is not always sweet, once it is consummated we feel inferior to our victim.

Illusion begets and sustains the world; we do not destroy one without destroying the other. Which is what I do every day. An apparently ineffectual operation, since I must begin all over again the next day.