To hope is to contradict the future.
No one can do without some semblance of immortality, and even less will they deny themselves the right to seek it out in the form of this or that reputation, starting with the literary... Since death has come to be accepted by all as the absolute end, everyone writes.
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.
Life creates itself in delirium and is undone in ennui.
Once you see that everything is unreal, you can't see why you should bother to prove it.
I have decided not to oppose anyone ever again, since I have noticed that I always end by resembling my latest enemy.
I'm simply an accident. Why take it all so seriously?
Old age, after all, is merely the punishment for having lived.
Humanity adores only those who cause it to perish.
What do you do from morning to night?" "I endure myself.
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?
I feel completely detached from any country, any group. I am a metaphysically displaced person
Basis of society: anonymous sweat.
Not to be born is undoubtedly the best plan of all. Unfortunately, it is within no one's reach.
My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.
The more one has suffered, the less one demands. To protest is a sign one has traversed no hell.
The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live - moreover, the only one.
Democracy: a festival of mediocrity.
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?
Trees are massacred, houses go up — faces, faces everywhere. Man is spreading. Man is the cancer of the earth.
What I know at sixty, I knew as well at twenty. Forty years of a long, superfluous, labor of verification.
How important can it be that I suffer and think? My presence in this world will disturb a few tranquil lives and will unsettle the unconscious and pleasant naiveté of others. Although I feel that my tragedy is the greatest in history - greater than the fall of empires - I am nevertheless aware of my total insignificance. I am absolutely persuaded that I am nothing in this universe; yet I feel that mine is the only real existence.
Beware of thinkers whose minds function only when they are fueled by a quotation.
The sole means of protecting your solitude is to offend everyone, beginning with those you love.
One is and remains a slave as long as one is not cured of hoping.
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