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

But the vagrant owns the whole vast earth that ends only at the nonexistent horizon, and his empire is an intangible one, for his domination and enjoyment of it are things of the spirit.

Life on the open road is liberty... to be alone, to have few needs, to be unknown, everywhere a foreigner and at home, and to walk grandly and solitarily in conquest of the world.

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

I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.

Death does not frighten me, but dying obscurely and above all uselessly does.

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