If we had the courage to confront the doubts we timidly conceive about ourselves, none of us would utter an 'I' without shame.

Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.

Alone, even doing nothing, you do not waste your time. You do, almost always, in company. No encounter with yourself can be altogether sterile: Something necessarily emerges, even if only the hope of some day meeting yourself again.

Even when nothing happens, everything seems too much for me. What can be said, then, in the presence of an event, any event?

The wise man, the sage, is hostile to the new. Disabused, he abdicates: that is his form of protest.

I have decided not to oppose anyone ever again, since I have noticed that I always end by resembling my latest enemy.

It is enough for me to hear someone talk sincerely about ideals, about the future, about philosophy, to hear him say “we" with a certain inflection of assurance, to hear him invoke "others" and regard himself as their interpreter - for me to consider him my enemy.