One cannot live without motives. I have no motives left, and I am living.

When every man has realized that his birth is a defeat, existence, endurable at last, will seem like the day after a surrender, like the relief and the repose of the conquered.

What can be said, lacks reality. Only what fails to make its way into words exists and counts.

As long as one believes in philosophy, one is healthy; sickness begins when one starts to think.

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

In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.

Discretion is deadly to genius; ruinous to talent.