When the rich [and politically powerful] make war, it's the poor [and politically weak] who die.

To choose not to choose is still to act.

That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget.

Everything that exists is born for no reason, carries on living through weakness, and dies by accident

Man is fully responsible for his nature and his choices.

Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories.

My thought is me: that's why I can't stop. I exist because I think… and I can't stop myself from thinking. At this very moment - it's frightful - if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire.