Revenge is not always sweet, once it is consummated we feel inferior to our victim.

If I were to be totally sincere, I would say that I do not know why I live and why I do not stop living. The answer probably lies in the irrational character of life which maintains itself without reason.

Afflicted with existence, each man endures like an animal the consequences which proceed from it. Thus, in a world where everything is detestable, hatred becomes huger than the world and, having transcended its object, cancels itself out.

If each of us were to confess his most secret desire, the one that inspires all his plans, all his actions, he would say: "I want to be praised."

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

To claim you are more detached, more alien to everything than anyone, and to be merely a fanatic of indifference!

We define only out of despair, we must have a formula... to give a facade tot he void.