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.

True confessions are written with tears only. But my tears would drown the world, as my inner fire would reduce it to ashes.

Tragic paradox of freedom: the mediocre men who alone make its exercise possible cannot guarantee its duration.

How important can it be that I suffer and think? My presence in this world will disturb a few tranquil lives and will unsettle the unconscious and pleasant naiveté of others. Although I feel that my tragedy is the greatest in history - greater than the fall of empires - I am nevertheless aware of my total insignificance. I am absolutely persuaded that I am nothing in this universe; yet I feel that mine is the only real existence.

We must suffer to the end, to the moment when we stop believing in suffering.

We are all geniuses when we dream.

To act is to anchor in an imminent future, so imminent it becomes almost tangible; to act is to feel you are consubstantial with that future.