God would be the strangest thing to exist.

I speculate that this is the best of all possible worlds, for philosophy is the best of humanity, and this world is the best philosophically.

My existence is such that "I" do not really exist. At the end of understanding so much I understand that I know nothing. I suffer for being surrounded by intense suffering and yet I'm deeply suspicious if first of all there is indeed any consciousness except me. I strive to find the artist who might have fathered this great universal art but feel myself to be too feeble to accomplish this seemingly unattainable mission. Yet I have every respect for life, and it is this sheer respect that makes me live.

Life is painful to be meaningful.

Life exists to be a mystery.

Whenever God looks devilish, I see the philosopher fail.

Religions, themselves, are (intellectual) blasphemies.