Not one moment when I have not been conscious of being outside Paradise.

The fear of your own solitude, of its vast surface and its infinity… Remorse is the voice of solitude. And what does this whispering voice say? Everything in us that is not human anymore.

We understand God by everything in ourselves that is fragmentary, incomplete, and inopportune.

Freedom can be manifested only in the void of beliefs, in the absence of axioms, and only where the laws have no more authority than a hypothesis.

What strangely enchanted tunes gush forth during those sleepless nights!

One does not inhabit a country; one inhabits a language. That is our country, our fatherland - and no other.

My enthusiasms...constitute my reserves, my unexploited resources, perhaps my future.