No human beings more dangerous than those who have suffered for a belief: the great persecutors are recruited from the martyrs not quite beheaded. Far from diminishing the appetite for power, suffering exasperates it.

If we manage to last in spite of everything, it is because our infirmities are so many and so contradictory that they cancel each other out.

The limit of every pain is an even greater pain.

The task of the solitary man is to be even more solitary.

As the years pass, the number of those we can communicate with diminishes. When there is no longer anyone to talk to, at last we will be as we were before stooping to a name.

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

To exist is equivalent to an act of faith, a protest against the truth, an interminable prayer. As soon as they consent to live, the unbeliever and the man of faith are fundamentally the same, since both have made the only decision that defines a being.