I have spent my life resisting the desire to end it.

Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.

The various forms of despair at the various stations on the road.

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.

He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone.

Believing means liberating the indestructible element in oneself, or, more accurately, liberating oneself, or, more accurately, being indestructible, or, more accurately, being.

Two tasks at the beginning of your life: to narrow your orbit more and more, and ever and again to check whether you are not in hiding somewhere outside your orbit.