“I am still alive then. That may come in useful.”

We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.

Habit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.

If I was dead, I wouldn’t know I was dead. That’s the only thing I have against death. I want to enjoy my death.

That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.

I marshalled the words and opened my mouth, thinking I would hear them. But all I heard was a kind of rattle, unintelligible even to me who knew what was intended.

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

To have been always what I am – and so changed from what I was.

Nothing is more real than nothing.

What do we do now, now that we are happy?

For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on.

If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.

I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.

But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!

Yes, in my life, since we must call it so, there were three things, the inability to speak, the inability to be silent, and solitude, that’s what I’ve had to make the best of.

I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.

If you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love.

maybe all we need is some good music, good company, and bad dancing to remind us what it is to be alive

As much as I gained from self-love, Being in love with who you are is more than enough to make you feel that you are alive.

In the veins of poets flows ink, with which they create words for eternity. When they die a part of their souls will still stay alive in their poetry.

Remind yourself every day of why you’re alive.

The moon is alive because of the darkness how could we – ever be afraid of something that gives the stars a home?

If then, merely out of regard to population, it were right that paederasts should be burnt alive, monks ought to be roasted alive over a slow fire.

Oh darling, if the universe would need the love of us careless humans to keep its restless heart alive the sky would be full of dead stars.

Focus on humanity. It keeps you alive.