Don't you feel the same way? When I cannot see myself, even though I touch myself, I wonder if I really exist.

Life is nothing until it is lived; but it is yours to make sense of, and the of it is nothing other than the sense you choose.

What I see is teeming cohesion, contained dispersal... For him, to sculpt is to take the fat off space.

He was free, free in every way, free to behave like a fool or a machine, free to accept, free to refuse, free to equivocate; to marry, to give up the game, to drag this death weight about with him for years to come. He could do what he liked, no one had the right to advise him, there would be for him no Good or Evil unless he thought them into being.

With a little luck that epoch may arrive. I am on the side of those who think that things will go better when the world has changed.

The world would get along very well without literature. It would get along even better without man.

Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance.