It is clear that the world is purely parodic, that each thing seen is the parody of another, or is the same thing in a deceptive form.

In what will survive me I am in harmony with my annihilation.

I think that knowledge enslaves us, that at the base of all knowledge there is a servility, the acceptation of a way of life wherein each moment has meaning only in relation to another or others that will follow it.

I teach the art of turning anguish into delight.

You perhaps now know that desire reduces us to pulp.

Extreme seductiveness is at the boundary of horror

The anguish of the neurotic individual is the same as that of the saint. The neurotic, the saint are engaged in the same battle. Their blood flows from similar wounds. But the first one gasps and the other one gives.