...we rarely confide in those who are better than we. Rather, we are more inclined to flee their society. Most often, on the other hand, we confess to those who are like us and who share our weaknesses. Hence we don't want to improve ourselves and be bettered, for we should first have to be judged in default. We merely wish to be pitied and encouraged in the course we have chosen. In short, we should like, at the same time, to cease being guilty and yet not to make the effort of cleansing ourselves.
Thoughts of suicide have got me through many a bad night.
A fate is not a punishment.
Truth, like light, is blinding. Lies, on the other hand, are a beautiful dusk, which enhances the value of each object.
Poverty, first of all was never a misfortune for me; it was radiant with sunlight.. I owe it to my family, first of all, who lacked everything and who envied practically nothing.
The world is unimportant and whoever recognizes this conquers his liberty.
[Love] is the type of disease that spares neither the intelligent nor the idiotic.
But - I cannot make a choice. I have my own sorrow, but I suffer with him, too; I share his pain. I understand all - that is my trouble.
To lose one's life is no great matter; when the time comes I'll have the courage to lose mine. But what's intolerable is to see one's life being drained of meaning, to be told there's no reason for existing. A man can't live without some reason for living.
The opposite of an idealist is too often a man without love.
Am well. Thinking of you always. Love
There's the risk of being loved...and that would keep me from being happy.
After all perhaps the greatness of art lies in the perpetual tension between beauty and pain, the love of men and the madness of creation, unbearable solitude and the exhausting crowd, rejection and consent.
Only it takes time to be happy. A lot of time. Happiness, too, is a long patience.
We're going forward, but nothing changes.
Who taught you all this, doctor?" The reply came promptly: "Suffering.
The only serious question in life is whether to kill yourself or not.
I make myself strict rules in order to correct my nature. But it is my nature that I finally obey.
I see many people die because they judge that life is not worth living. I see others paradoxically getting killed for the ideas or illusions that give them a reason for living (what is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying). I therefore conclude that the meaning of life is the most urgent of questions.
From the evening breeze to this hand on my shoulder, everything has its truth.
Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.
In order to exist, man must rebel.
Do not wait for the Last Judgment. It takes place every day.
Since we're all going to die, it's obvious that when and how don't matter.
It is not your paintings I like, it is your painting.
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