So long as man is protected by madness - he functions - and flourishes.

Each time I fail to think about death, I have the impression of cheating, of deceiving someone in me.

I do not forgive myself for being born. It is as if creeping into this world, I had profaned a mystery, betrayed some momentous pledge, committed a fault of nameless gravity.

The source of our actions resides in an unconscious propensity to regard ourselves as the center, the cause, and the conclusion of time. Our reflexes and our pride transform into a planet the parcel of flesh and consciousness we are.

True contact between beings is established only by mute presence, by apparent non-communication, by that mysterious and wordless exchange which resembles inward prayer.

Under each formula lies a corpse.

Humanity adores only those who cause it to perish.