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

My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.

There is no other world. Nor even this one. What, then, is there? The inner smile provoked in us by the patent nonexistence of both.

I lost my sleep, and this is the greatest tragedy that can befall someone. It is much worse than sitting in prison.

There was a time when time did not yet exist.

A marvel that has nothing to offer, democracy is at once a nation's paradise and its tomb.

Death makes no sense except to people who have passionately loved life. How can one die without having something to part from? Detachment is a negation of both life and death. Whoever has overcome his fear of death has also triumphed over life. For life is nothing but another word for this fear.