If there was a God of sorrow, he would grow black heavy wings, to soar not for the skies, but for inferno.

Tears do not burn except in solitude.

Knowledge is the plague of life, and consciousness, an open wound in its heart.

Haven't people learned yet that the time of superficial intellectual games is over, that agony is infinitely more important than syllogism, that a cry of despair is more revealing than the most subtle thought, and that tears always have deeper roots than smiles?

One of the greatest delusions of the average man is to forget that life is death's prisoner.

There are questions which, once approached, either isolate you or kill you outright.

I don't need any support, advice, or compassion, because even if I am the most ruinous man, I still feel so powerful, so strong and fierce. For I am the only one that lives without hope.

Why don't I commit suicide? Because I am as sick of death as I am of life.

I admire only two types of people: the potentially mad and the potential suicide.

No one commits suicide for external reasons, only because of inner disequilibrium. Under similar adverse circumstances, some are indifferent, some are moved, some are driven to suicide.