You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.

As for types like my own, obscurely motivated by the conviction that our existence was worthless if we didn't make a turning point of it, we were assigned to the humanities, to poetry, philosophy, painting - the nursery games of humankind, which had to be left behind when the age of science began. The humanities would be called upon to choose a wallpaper for the crypt, as the end drew near.

I seem to have the blind self-acceptance of the eccentric who can't conceive that his eccentricities are not clearly understood.

It's not up to me ... to make the world consistent.

Let the enemies of life step down.

But there are things you can't consult anybody about.

I am something of a crank about sleep, for if I get seven and a quarter hours instead of eight I feel afflicted and drag myself around, although there's nothing really wrong with me. It's just another idea. That's how it is with my ideas; they seem to get strong while I weaken.