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.

A sensation must have fallen very low to deign to turn into an idea.

What to think of other people? I ask myself this question each time I make a new acquaintance. So strange does it seem to me that we exist, and that we consent to exist.

If just once you were depressed for no reason, you have been so all your life without knowing.

The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live - moreover, the only one.

For you who no longer possess it, freedom is everything, for us who do, it is merely an illusion.

We cannot be normal and alive at the same time.