A subject to which few intellectuals ever give a thought is the right to be a vagrant, the freedom to wander. Yet vagrancy is a deliverance, and life on the open road is the essence of freedom. To have the courage to smash the chains with which modern life has weighted us (under the pretext that it was offering us more liberty), then to take up the symbolic stick and bundle and get out.

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.

For now it seems that by advancing into unknown territories, I entered into my life

From every ruin, life springs up again and everything that dies is born again.

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

I am not afraid of death, but would not want to die in some obscure or pointless way.