If I shall exist eternally, how shall I exist tomorrow?
I am in chains. Don't touch my chains.
There was once a community of scoundrels, that is to say, they were not scoundrels, but ordinary people.
A picture of my existence... would show a useless wooden stake covered in snow... stuck loosely at a slant in the ground in a ploughed field on the edge of a vast open plain on a dark winter night.
Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.
The whole visible world is perhaps nothing more than the rationalization of a man who wants to find peace for a moment.