Perhaps its inevitable, perhaps one has to choose between being nothing at all and impersonating what one is.

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 consciousness that says 'I am' is not the consciousness that thinks.

We make our own hell out of the people around us.

I had found my religion: nothing seemed more important to me than a book. I saw the library as a temple.

For the moment, the jazz is playing; there is no melody, just notes, a myriad tiny tremors. The notes know no rest, an inflexibleorder gives birth to them then destroys them, without ever leaving them the chance to recuperate and exist for themselves.... I would like to hole them back, but I know that, if I succeeded in stooping one, there would only remain in may hand a corrupt and languishing sound. I must accept their death; I must even want that death: I know of few more bitter or intense impressions.

Why do you keep maintaining your ideas are right if you can't prove them?