Music is the refuge of souls ulcerated by happiness.

I saw that philosophy had no power to make my life more bearable. Thus I lost my belief in philosophy.

We have convictions only if we have studied nothing thoroughly.

The source of our actions resides in an unconscious propensity to regard ourselves as the center, the cause, and the conclusion of time. Our reflexes and our pride transform into a planet the parcel of flesh and consciousness we are.

There is no other world. Nor even this one. What, then, is there? The inner smile provoked in us by the patent nonexistence of both.

Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death!

All the concessions we make to Eros are holes in our desire for the absolute.