Thinking should be like musical meditation. Has any philosopher pursued a thought to its limits the way Bach or Beethoven develop and exhaust a musical theme? Even after having read the most profound thinkers, one still feels the need to begin anew. Only music gives definitive answers.

Losing love is so rich a philosophical ordeal that it makes a hairdresser into a rival of Socrates.

The only free mind is one that, pure of all intimacy with beings or objects, plies its own vacuity.

If, at the limit, you can rule without crime, you cannot do so without injustices.

What pride to discover that nothing belongs to you - what a revelation.

It has been a long time since philosophers have read men's souls. It is not their task, we are told. Perhaps. But we must not be surprised if they no longer matter much to us.

I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.