Reason died in 1914, November 1914 ... after that everybody began to rave.

That is perhaps what we seek throughout life, that and nothing more, the greatest possible sorrow so as to become fully ourselves before dying.

Most people die at the last minute; others twenty years beforehand, some even earlier. They are the wretched of the earth.

Man hardly comes in more than two varieties, wherever he is, whatever he does: workers and pimps ... they're either one or the other! ... and inventors, the worst kind of jobholder! ... they stand condemned! ... the writer who doesn't pimp along, peacefully plagiarizing, who doesn't pump out the pop stuff, he's had it! ... everybody hates him!

Women always have some mental reservation.

An Immense hatred keeps me alive... i would live for a thousand years if i were certain of seeing the whole world croak.

Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn't get you anywhere.