Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.

The savage hatred I feel for crowds is getting worse, natural enemies that they are of imagination and of thought.

I think it is impossible for human minds to think of Death as a final, irrevocable end to life.

The way I see it, there is no greater spiritual beauty than fanaticism, of a sort so sincere it can only end in martyrdom.

To be alone is to be free, and freedom was the only happiness accessible to my nature.

We are, all of us, poor wretches, and those who prefer not to understand this are even worse off than the rest of us.

I am full of the sorrow that goes with changes in surroundings, those successive stages of annihilation that slowly lead to the great and final void.