All people see fires, storms, explosions, or landscapes; but how many feel the flames, the lightnings, the whirlwinds, or the harmony? How many have an inner beauty that tinges their melancholy?

A book has to dig through the wounds, more, it has cause a new one, a book it has to be dangerous.

Pursued by our origins... we all are.

Self-conscious rejection of the absolute is the best way to resist God; thus illusion, the substance of life, is saved.

If truth were not boring, science would have done away with God long ago. But God as well as the saints is a means to escape the dull banality of truth.

The capital phenomenon, the most catastrophic disaster, is uninterrupted sleeplessness, that nothingness without release.

We cannot consent to be judged by someone who has suffered less than ourselves. And since each of us regards himself as an unrecognized Job.