Glory - once achieved, what is it worth?

Society: an inferno of saviors!

Each time I fail to think about death, I have the impression of cheating, of deceiving someone in me.

An aphorism? Fire without flames. Understandable that no one tries to warm himself at it.

The literary man? An indiscreet man, who devaluates his miseries, divulges them, tells them like so many beads: immodesty-the sideshow of second thoughts-is his rule; he offers himself.

Once you see that everything is unreal, you can't see why you should bother to prove it.

Those who believe in their truth -- the only ones whose imprint is retained by the memory of men -- leave the earth behind them strewn with corpses. Religions number in their ledgers more murders than the bloodiest tyrannies account for, and those whom humanity has called divine far surpass the most conscientious murderers in their thirst for slaughter.