Blessed are those who entrust their lives to no one.

We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It's our own concept—our own selves—that we love.

On the road halfway between faith and criticism stands the inn of reason. Reason is faith in what can be understood without faith, but it's still a faith, since to understand presupposes that there's something understandable.

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

And, like the great damned souls, I shall always feel that thinking is worth more than living.

If after I die, people want to write my biography, there is nothing simpler. They only need two dates: the date of my birth and the date of my death. Between one and another, every day is mine.

There is a time when it is necessary to abandon the used clothes, which already have the shape of our body and to forget our paths, which takes us always to the same places. This is the time to cross the river: and if we don't dare to do it, we will have stayed, forever beneath ourselves