By what aberration has suicide, the only truly normal action, become the attribute of the flawed?

It is because we are all impostors that we endure each other. The man who does not consent to lie will see the earth shrink under his feet: we are biologically obliged to the false

The sole means of protecting your solitude is to offend everyone, beginning with those you love.

What is pity but the vice of kindness.

By virtue of depression, we recall those misdeeds we buried in the depths of our memory. Depression exhumes our shames.

We are afraid of the enormity of the possible.

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