Wise is he who enjoys the show offered by the world.

I have at this moment so many fundamental thoughts, so many truly metaphysical things to say, that I suddenly get tired and decide not to write any more, not to think any more, but to allow the fever of speaking to make me sleepy, and with my eyes closed, like a cat, I play with everything I could have said.

We almost always live outside ourselves, and life itself is a continual dispersion. But it's towards ourselves that we tend, as towards a centre around which, like planets, we trace absurd and distant ellipses.

pg.9 "In my heart there's a peaceful anguish, and my calm is made of resignation.

We’ve been devastated by the severest and deadliest drought in history – that of our profound awareness of the futility of all effort and the vanity of all plans.

Stones in the road? I save every single one, and one day I'll build a castle.

...the painful intensity of my sensations, even when they're happy ones; the blissful intensity of my sensations, even when they're sad.