The end is low, like all quantitative ends, personal or not, and it can be attained and verified.
Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face. That’s what’s most terrible. Nature gave him the possibility of not seeing it, as well as the incapacity of not seeing his own eyes.
And as well as I dream, I reason if I want, for that’s just another kind of dream.
My joy is as painful as my pain.
On the road halfway between faith and criticism stands the inn of reason. Reason is faith in what can be understood without faith, but it’s still a faith, since to understand presupposes that there’s something understandable.
Ah, it’s my longing for whom I might have been that distracts and torments me!
Everything stated or expressed by man is a note in the margin of a completely erased text. From what’s in the note we can extract the gist of what must have been in the text, but there’s always a doubt, and the possible meanings are many.
Multipliquei-me para me sentir.
If after I die, people want to write my biography, there is nothing simpler. They only need two dates: the date of my birth and the date of my death. Between one and another, every day is mine.
To be understood is to prostitute oneself.
We, all who live, have A life that is lived And another life that is thought, And the only life we have It’s the one that is divided In right or wrong.
Decadence is the total loss of unconsciousness, which is the very basis of life. Could it think, the heart would stop beating.
Be what I think? But I think of being so many things!
Let’s buy books so as not to read them; let’s go to concerts without caring to hear the music or see who’s there; let’s take long walks because we’re sick of walking; and let’s spend whole days in the country, just because it bores us.
Isn’t joyful or painful this pain in which I rejoice.
I’m losing my taste for everything, including even my taste for finding everything tasteless.
Without madness what is man But a wholesome beast, Postponed corpse that begets?
In this metallic age of barbarians, only a relentless cultivation of our ability to dream, to analyse and to captivate can prevent our personality from degenerating into nothing or else into a personality like all the rest.
I Know, I Alone I know, I alone How much it hurts, this heart With no faith nor law Nor melody nor thought. Only I, only I And none of this can I say Because feeling is like the sky – Seen, nothing in it to see.
What Hells and Purgatories and Heavens I have inside of me! But who sees me do anything that disagrees with life – me, so calm and peaceful?