All of living is nothing but a fervid attempt to move closer together.

We publish only to satisfy out craving for fame; there's no other motive except the even baser one of making money.

Our greatest pleasure, surely, is in fragments, just as we derive the most pleasure from life if we regard it as a fragment, whereas the whole and the complete and the perfect are basically abhorrent.

You are never truly together with one you love until the person in question is dead and actually inside you.

It would be wrong to refuse to face the fact that everything is fundamentally sick and sad.

We must allow ourselves to think, we must dare to think, even though we fail. It is in the nature of things that we always fail, because we suddenly find it impossible to order our thoughts, because the process of thinking requires us to consider every thought there is, every possible thought. Fundamentally we have always failed, like all the others, whoever they were, even the greatest minds. At some point, they suddenly failed and their system collapsed, as is proved by their writings, which we admire because they venture farthest into failure. To think is to fail, I thought.

The thinking man always finds himself in a gigantic orphanage in which people are continually proving to him that he has no parents.