And what is called history at school, and all we learn by heart there about heroes and geniuses and great deeds and fine emotions, is all nothing but a swindle invented by the schoolmasters for educational reasons to keep children occupied for a given number of years. It has always been so and always will be.

Opinions mean nothing; they may be beautiful or ugly, clever or foolish, anyone can embrace or reject them.

The only reality is the one we have inside us. What makes most people’s lives so artificial and unworthy is that they falsely regard outside images as reality and they never allow their own inner world to speak.

To die is to go into the Collective Unconscious, to lose oneself in order to be transformed into form, pure form.

Only the ideas that we really live have any value.

Each man's life represents a road toward himself, an attempt at such a road, the intimation of a path... But each of us - experiments of the depths - strives toward his own destiny. We can understand one another; but each of us is able to interpret himself to himself alone.

My real self wanders elsewhere, far away, wanders on and on invisibly and has nothing to do with my life.