We are all geniuses when we dream.

Illusion begets and sustains the world; we do not destroy one without destroying the other. Which is what I do every day. An apparently ineffectual operation, since I must begin all over again the next day.

Melancholy redeems this universe, and yet it is melancholy that separates us from it.

I don’t understand how people can believe in God, even when I myself think of him everyday.

To live entirely without a goal! I have glimpsed this state, and have often attained it, without managing to remain there: I am too weak for such happiness.

I do not want to see BP nickel and diming these businesses that are having a tough time.

History is nothing but a procession of false Absolutes, a series of temples raised to pretexts, a degradation of the mind before the Improbable.