Killing time is the chief end of our society.

Thought itself needs words. It runs on them like a long wire. And if it loses the habit of words, little by little it becomes shapeless, somber.

Who cares about great marks left behind? We have one life... just one. Our life. We have nothing else.

We know well enough when we're being unjust and despicable. but we don't restrain ourselves because we experience a certain pleasure, a primitive sort of satisfaction in moments like that.

Murderers, in general, are people who are consistent, people who are obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

When I say "I," I mean a thing absolutely unique, not to be confused with any other.

The first temptation, upon meeting an old friend after many years, is always to - look the other way.