Suffering makes you live time in detail, moment after moment. Which is to say that it exists for you: over the others, the ones who don't suffer, time flows, so that they don't live in time, in fact they never have.

The desire to die was my one and only concern; to it I have sacrificed everything, even death.

Each of us is born with a share of purity, predestined to be corrupted by our commerce with mankind, by that sin against solitude.

That history just unfolds, independently of a specified direction, of a goal, no one is willing to admit.

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

It is not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself too late.

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.