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.
It is enough for me to hear someone talk sincerely about ideals, about the future, about philosophy, to hear him say “we" with a certain inflection of assurance, to hear him invoke "others" and regard himself as their interpreter - for me to consider him my enemy.
Ideas should be neutral. But man animates them with his passions and folly. Impure and turned into beliefs, they take on the appearance of reality. The passage from logic is consummated. Thus are born ideologies, doctrines, and bloody farce.
Skepticism is the elegance of anxiety.
Existing is plagiarism.
Man starts over again everyday, in spite of all he knows, against all he knows.
To accomplish nothing and die of the strain
I would like to go mad on one condition, namely, that I would become a happy madman, lively and always in a good mood, without any troubles and obsessions, laughing senselessly from morning to night.
A civilization is destroyed only when its gods are destroyed.
I have all the defects of other people yet everything they do seems to me inconceivable.
There was a time when time did not yet exist.
True contact between beings is established only by mute presence, by apparent non-communication, by that mysterious and wordless exchange which resembles inward prayer.
Man must vanquish himself, must do himself violence, in order to perform the slightest action untainted by evil.
We must learn how to explode! Any disease is healthier than the one provoked by a hoarded rage.
How good would it be if one could die by throwing oneself into an infinite void.
However much I have frequented the mystics, deep down I have always sided with the Devil; unable to equal him in power, I have tried to be worthy of him, at least, in insolence, acrimony, arbitrariness and caprice.
Everything is pathology, except for indifference.
He who hates himself is not humble.
A great step forward was made the day men understood that in order to torment one another more efficiently they would have to gather together, to organize themselves into a society
For you who no longer possess it, freedom is everything, for us who do, it is merely an illusion.
A golden rule: to leave an incomplete image of oneself.
Utopia is a mixture of childish rationalism and secularized angelism.
Doubt works deep within you like a disease or, even more effectively, like a faith.
Where are my sensations? They have melted into... me, and what is this me, this self, but the sum of these evaporated sensations?
Revenge is not always sweet, once it is consummated we feel inferior to our victim.
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