One cannot live without motives. I have no motives left, and I am living.

Progress is the injustice each generation commits with regard to its predecessor.

Every thought derives from a thwarted sensation.

The ideal being? An angel ravaged by humor.

Late at night. I feel like falling into a frenzy, doing some unprecedented thing to release myself, but I don't see against whom, against what...

Everything turns on pain; the rest is accessory, even nonexistent, for we remember only what hurts. Painful sensations being the only real ones, it is virtually useless to experience others.

We had nothing to say to one another, and while I was manufacturing my phrases I felt that earth was falling through space and that I was falling with it at a speed that made me dizzy.

All my life, I have lived with the feeling that I have been kept from my true place. If the expression "metaphysical exile" had no meaning, my existence alone would afford it one.

An aphorism? Fire without flames. Understandable that no one tries to warm himself at it.

The farther men get from God, the farther they advance into the knowledge of religions.