Tears do not burn except in solitude.
Every thought should recall the ruin of a smile.
Negation is the mind's first freedom, yet a negative habit is fruitful only so long as we exert ourselves to overcome it, adapt it to our needs; once acquired it can imprison us.
The literary man? An indiscreet man, who devaluates his miseries, divulges them, tells them like so many beads: immodesty-the sideshow of second thoughts-is his rule; he offers himself.
Even when nothing happens, everything seems too much for me. What can be said, then, in the presence of an event, any event?
Jealousy - that jumble of secret worship and ostensible aversion.
On Creating — What we crave, what we want to see in others eyes, is that servile expression, an unconcealed infatuation with our gestures.
Self-conscious rejection of the absolute is the best way to resist God; thus illusion, the substance of life, is saved.
Every form of talent involves a certain shameless-ness.
Glory - once achieved, what is it worth?
Skepticism is the sadism of embittered souls.
So long as man is protected by madness - he functions - and flourishes.
A book has to dig through the wounds, more, it has cause a new one, a book it has to be dangerous.
Nothing is so wearing as the possession or abuse of liberty.
Suffering makes you live time in detail, moment after moment. Which is to say that it exists for you: over the others, the ones who don't suffer, time flows, so that they don't live in time, in fact they never have.
Vague a l'ame - melancholy yearning for the end of the world.
My mission is to see things as they are. Exactly contrary of a mission.
By virtue of depression, we recall those misdeeds we buried in the depths of our memory. Depression exhumes our shames.
Melancholy redeems this universe, and yet it is melancholy that separates us from it.
If you lack the power to demoralize yourself along with the age, to go as low and as far, do not complain of being misunderstood by it.
History proves nothing because it contains everything.
Life is merely a fracas on an unmapped terrain, and the universe a geometry stricken with epilepsy.
I seem to myself, among civilized men, an intruder, a troglodyte enamored of decrepitude, plunged into subversive prayers.
A garbled quotation is equivalent to a betrayal, an insult, a prejudice.
I cannot contribute anything to this world because I only have one method: agony.
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