We have convictions only if we have studied nothing thoroughly.
Speech and silence. We feel safer with a madman who talks than with one who cannot open his mouth.
No one can keep his griefs in their prime; they use themselves up.
When we cannot be delivered from ourselves, we delight in devouring ourselves.
If we manage to last in spite of everything, it is because our infirmities are so many and so contradictory that they cancel each other out.
That history just unfolds, independently of a specified direction, of a goal, no one is willing to admit.