Impossible to spend sleepless nights and accomplish anything: if, in my youth, my parents had not financed my insomnias, I should surely have killed myself.

We have convictions only if we have studied nothing thoroughly.

No one can keep his griefs in their prime; they use themselves up.

Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.

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

However much I have frequented the mystics, deep down I have always sided with the Devil; unable to equal him in power, I have tried to be worthy of him, at least, in insolence, acrimony, arbitrariness and caprice.

I do nothing, granted. But I see the hours pass - which is better than trying to fill them.