There's a tiredness of abstract inteligence, and it's the most horrible of tirednesses. It doesn't weight on you like the tiredness of the body, nor does it worry you like the tiredness of knowledge and emotion. It's a weightiness of the conscience of the world, an inability of the soul to breathe.

pg 9, "The consciousness of life's unconsciousness is the oldest tax levied on the intelligence.

Whether or not they exist we are slaves to our gods.

To be understood is to prostitute oneself

Time, which grays hair and wrinkles faces, also withers violent affections, and much more quickly.

Let's buy books so as not to read them; let's go to concerts without caring to hear the music or see who's there; let's take long walks because we're sick of walking; and let's spend whole days in the country, just because it bores us.

The sea with an end can be Greek or Roman: the endless sea is Portuguese.