One is and remains a slave as long as one is not cured of hoping.
To hope is to contradict the future.
Skepticism is the elegance of anxiety.
True contact between beings is established only by mute presence, by apparent non-communication, by that mysterious and wordless exchange which resembles inward prayer.
Humanity adores only those who cause it to perish.
My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.
There was a time when time did not yet exist.
Alone, even doing nothing, you do not waste your time. You do, almost always, in company. No encounter with yourself can be altogether sterile: Something necessarily emerges, even if only the hope of some day meeting yourself again.
I'm simply an accident. Why take it all so seriously?
Old age, after all, is merely the punishment for having lived.
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.
The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live - moreover, the only one.
What do you do from morning to night?" "I endure myself.
The more one has suffered, the less one demands. To protest is a sign one has traversed no hell.
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.
No matter which way we go, it is no better than any other. It is all the same whether you achieve something or not, have faith or not, just as it is all the same whether you cry or remain silent.
Only optimists commit suicide, optimists who no longer succeed at being optimists. The others, having no reason to live, why would they have any to die?
The sole means of protecting your solitude is to offend everyone, beginning with those you love.
How easy it is to be "deep": all you have to do is let yourself sink into your own flaws.
We dread the future only when we are not sure we can kill ourselves when we want to.
Once you see that everything is unreal, you can't see why you should bother to prove it.
What I know at sixty, I knew as well at twenty. Forty years of a long, superfluous, labor of verification.
Life creates itself in delirium and is undone in ennui.
As far as I am concerned, I resign from humanity. I no longer want to be, nor can still be, a man. What should I do? Work for a social and political system, make a girl miserable? Hunt for weaknesses in philosophical systems, fight for moral and esthetic ideals? It’s all too little. I renounce my humanity even though I may find myself alone. But am I not already alone in this world from which I no longer expect anything?
Trees are massacred, houses go up — faces, faces everywhere. Man is spreading. Man is the cancer of the earth.
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