What would be left of our tragedies if an insect were to present us his?
What would be left of our tragedies if an insect were to present us his?
Crime in full glory consolidates authority by the sacred fear it inspires.
We define only out of despair, we must have a formula... to give a facade tot he void.
I foresee the day when we shall read nothing but telegrams and prayers.
So long as man is protected by madness - he functions - and flourishes.
Nothing proves that we are more than nothing.
We would not be interested in human beings if we did not have the hope of someday meeting someone worse off than ourselves.
We are born to Exist, not to know, to be, not to assert ourselves.
Intelligence flourishes only in the ages when belief withers.
No one can enjoy freedom without trembling.
Our works, whatever they may be, derive from our incapacity to kill or to kill ourselves.
We are afraid of the enormity of the possible.
We understand God by everything in ourselves that is fragmentary, incomplete, and inopportune.
We inhabit a language rather than a country.
In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.
Reason is a whore, surviving by simulation, versatility, and shamelessness.
Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.
Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, Chaos is being yourself.
Ambition is a drug that makes its addicts potential madmen.
Our first intuitions are the true ones.
There is no means of proving it is preferable to be than not to be.
The history of ideas is the history of the grudges of solitary men.
A marvel that has nothing to offer, democracy is at once a nation's paradise and its tomb.
The more we try to rest ourselves from our Egos, the deeper we sink into it.
If, at the limit, you can rule without crime, you cannot do so without injustices.
Philosophy: Impersonal anxiety; refuge among anemic ideas.
It is not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself too late.
A sensation must have fallen very low to deign to turn into an idea.
Society is not a disease, it is a disaster. What a stupid miracle that one can live in it.
What pride to discover that nothing belongs to you - what a revelation.
No one can keep his grieves in their prime they use themselves up.
Speech and silence. We feel safer with a madman who talks than with one who cannot open his mouth.
Tolerance - the function of an extinguished ardor - tolerance cannot seduce the young.
We die in proportion to the words we fling around us.
Write books only if you are going to say in them the things you would never dare confide to anyone.
I have no nationality - the best possible status for an intellectual.
Glory - once achieved, what is it worth?
Impossible to spend sleepless nights and accomplish anything: if, in my youth, my parents had not financed my insomnias, I should surely have killed myself.
All that shimmers on the surface of the world, all that we call interesting, is the fruit of ignorance and inebriation.
The limit of every pain is an even greater pain.
By all evidence we are in the world to do nothing.
The fanatic is incorruptible: if he kills for an idea, he can just as well get himself killed for one; in either case, tyrant or martyr, he is a monster.
My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.
Nothing is so wearing as the possession or abuse of liberty.
To Live signifies to believe and hope - to lie and to lie to oneself.
To exist is a habit I do not despair of acquiring.
It is because we are all imposters that we endure each other.
The Universal view melts things into a blur.
Under each formula lies a corpse.
Man starts over again everyday, in spite of all he knows, against all he knows.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories