Erosion of our being by our infirmities: the resulting void is filled by the presence of consciousness, what am I saying? - that void is consciousness itself.

To have failed in everything, always, out of a love of discouragement.

Existence would be a quite impracticable enterprise if we stopped granting importance to what has none.

My mission is to suffer for all those who suffer without knowing it. I must pay for them, expiate their unconsciousness, their luck to be ignorant of how unhappy they are.

Obviously God was a solution, and obviously none so satisfactory that will ever be found again.

God is what survives the evidence that nothing deserves to be thought.

The unfortunate thing about public misfortunes is that everyone regards himself as qualified to talk about them.

Only one thing matters: learning to be the loser.

Not to be born is undoubtedly the best plan of all. Unfortunately, it is within no one's reach.

"What's wrong - what's the matter with you?" Nothing, nothing's the matter, I've merely taken a leap outside my fate, and now I don't know where to turn, what to run for...