We dread the future only when we are not sure we can kill ourselves when we want to.

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

Let us not be needlessly bitter: certain failures are sometimes fruitful.

What does the future, that half of time, matter to the man who is infatuated with eternity?

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.

There was a time when time did not yet exist. … The rejection of birth is nothing but the nostalgia for this time before time.

The premonition of madness is complicated by the fear of lucidity in madness, the fear of the moments of return and reunion... One would welcome chaos if one were not afraid of lights in it.