I Feel Completely Detached From Any Country,

Our Place Is Somewhere Between Being And Nonbeing - Between Two Fictions.

I Try--without Success--to Stop Finding Reasons For Vanity In Anything. When I Happen To Manage It Nonetheless, I Feel That I No Longer Belong To The Mortal Gang. I Am Above Everything Then, Above The Gods Themselves. Perhaps That Is What Death Is: A Sensation Of Great, Of Extreme Superiority.

Write Books Only If You Are Going To Say In Them The Things You Would Never Dare Confide To Anyone.

We Dread The Future Only When We Are Not Sure We Can Kill Ourselves When We Want To.

I Don’t Understand Why We Must Do Things In This World, Why We Must Have Friends And Aspirations, Hopes And Dreams. Wouldn’t It Be Better To Retreat To A Faraway Corner Of The World, Where All Its Noise And Complications Would Be Heard No More? Then We Could Renounce Culture And Ambitions; We Would Lose Everything And Gain Nothing; For What Is There To Be Gained From This World?