If we could see ourselves as others see us, we would vanish on the spot.
Consciousness is nature's nightmare.
Trees are massacred, houses go up — faces, faces everywhere. Man is spreading. Man is the cancer of the earth.
How easy it is to be "deep": all you have to do is let yourself sink into your own flaws.
Shame on the man who goes to his grave escorted by the miserable hopes that have kept him alive.
This very second has vanished forever, lost in the anonymous mass of the irrevocable. It will never return. I suffer from this and I do not. Everything is unique - and insignificant.
The sole means of protecting your solitude is to offend everyone, beginning with those you love.
Transmitting one's flaws [through procreation] to someone else is a crime. I could never consent to give life to someone who would inherent my ailments.
After having struggled madly to solve all problems, after having suffered on the heights of despair, in the supreme hour of revelation, you will find that the only answer, the only reality, is silence.
Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, chaos is being yourself.
Better to be an animal than a man, an insect than an animal, a plant than an insect, and so on. Salvation? Whatever diminishes the kingdom of consciousness and compromises its supremacy.
By all evidence we are in the world to do nothing.
Democracy: a festival of mediocrity.
The only way of enduring one disaster after the next is to love the very idea of disaster: if we succeed, there are no further surprises, we are superior to whatever occurs, we are invincible victims.
If each of us were to confess his most secret desire, the one that inspires all his plans, all his actions, he would say: "I want to be praised."
How good would it be if one could die by throwing oneself into an infinite void.
Nothing sweeter than to drag oneself along behind events; and nothing more reasonable. But without a strong dose of madness, no initiative, no enterprise, no gesture. Reason: the rust of our vitality. It is the madman in us who forces us to adventure; once he abandons us, we are lost; everything depends on him, even our vegetative life; it is he who invites us, who obliges us to breathe, and it is also he who forces our blood to venture through our veins. Once he withdraws, we are alone indeed! We cannot be normal and alive at the same time.
Try to be free: you will die of hunger.
He who hates himself is not humble.
What can be said, lacks reality. Only what fails to make its way into words exists and counts.
I have decided not to oppose anyone ever again, since I have noticed that I always end by resembling my latest enemy.
Nothing proves that we are more than nothing.
Beware of thinkers whose minds function only when they are fueled by a quotation.
I feel completely detached from any country, any group. I am a metaphysically displaced person
When every man has realized that his birth is a defeat, existence, endurable at last, will seem like the day after a surrender, like the relief and the repose of the conquered.
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