There is no rest for the humble except in despising the great, whose only thought of the people is inspired by self-interest or sadism.

There is no rest for the humble except in despising the great, whose only thought of the people is inspired by self-interest or sadism.

To hell with reality! I want to die in music, not in reason or in prose.

Almost every desire a poor man has is a punishable offence.

People don't deserve the restraint we show by not going into delirium in front of them.

I crawled back into myself all alone, just delighted to observe that I was even more miserable than before, because I had brought a new kind of distress and something that resembled true feeling into my solitude.

The whole business of your life overwhelms you when you live alone. One's stupefied by it. To get rid of it you try to daub some of it off on to people who come to see you, and they hate that. To be alone trains one for death.