To need to dominate others is to need others. The commander is dependent.
Literature exists because the world isn't enough.
In today's life, the world belongs only to the stupid, the insensitive and the agitated. The right to live and triumph is now conquered almost by the same means by which you conquer internment in an asylum: the inability to think, amorality and hiperexcitation.
One never lives so intensely as when one has been thinking hard.
Solitude desolates me; company oppresses me.
All beginnings are involuntary.
Everything interests me, but nothing holds me.
I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.
I always live in the present. The future I can't know. The past I no longer have.
Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes. Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself. The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.
Every day things happen in the world that cannot be explained by any law of things we know. Every day they're mentioned and forgotten, and the same mystery that brought them takes them away, transforming their secret into oblivion. Such is the law by which things that can't be explained must be forgotten. The visible world goes on as usual in the broad daylight. Otherness watches us from the shadows.
Direct experience is the evasion, or hiding place of those devoid of imagination.
It's been a long time since I've been me.
Wise is he who enjoys the show offered by the world.
We worship perfection because we can't have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.
I'd woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist.
My happiest hours are those in which I think nothing, want nothing, when I do not even dream, but lose myself in some spurious vegetable torpor, moss growing on the surface of life. Without a trace of bitterness I savour my absurd awareness of being nothing, a mere foretaste of death and extinction.
The human soul is an abyss
I pass times, I pass silences, formless worlds pass me by.
There's no regret more painful than the regret of things that never were.
To know how to think with emotions and to feel with intellect.
Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.
No intelligent idea can gain general acceptance unless some stupidity is mixed in with it.
Why is art beautiful? Because it's useless. Why is life ugly? Because it's all ends and purposes and intentions.
Life is good, but Wine is better.
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