I hadn't known there were so many idiots in the world until I started using the Internet.

I had no hope. Yet expectation lived on in me, the last thing she had left behind. What further consummations, mockeries, torments did I still anticipate? I had no idea as I abided in the unshaken belief that the time of cruel wonders was not yet over.

We are like snails, each stuck to his own leaf.

Burn with that consuming fire of objectivity that forces a man to renew efforts that are doomed to failure.

...it is easy not to believe in monsters, considerably more difficult to escape their dread and loathsome clutches.

The night stared me in the face, amorphous, blind, infinite, without frontiers. Not a single start relieved the darkness behind the glass.

Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him. Man can serve his age or rebel against it, but the target of his cooperation or rebellion comes to him from outside.