There Is No Means Of Proving It

To Exist Is A Habit I Do Not Despair Of Acquiring.

Tyrants Are Always Assassinated Too Late. That Is Their Great Excuse.

No One Recovers From The Disease Of Being Born, A Deadly Wound If There Ever Was One.

I Saw That Philosophy Had No Power To Make My Life More Bearable. Thus I Lost My Belief In Philosophy.

On Creating — What We Crave, What We Want To See In Others Eyes, Is That Servile Expression, An Unconcealed Infatuation With Our Gestures.