You see, nothing matters except pleasure - which is the opposite of happiness, its tragic part, I expect.
It is not peace we seek but meaning.
after all the work of the philosophers on his soul and the doctors on his body, what can we really say we know about a man? That he is, when all is said and done, just a passage for liquids and solids, a pipe of flesh.
Poetry is what happens when an anxiety meets a technique.
We are all hunting for rational reasons for believing in the absurd.
Everyone loathes his own country and countrymen if he is any sort of artist.