“Little flashes of sun on the surface of a cold, dark sea.”

Tme is too large, it can’t be filled up. Everything you plunge into it is stretched and disintegrates.

There is a universe behind and before him. And the day is approaching when closing the last book on the last shelf on the far left; he will say to himself, “now what?

I am a mere breath of air; a formless thought that thinks of you.

I do not think, therefore I am a moustache.

The worst part about being lied to is knowing you weren’t worth the truth.

To know what life is worth you have to risk it once in a while.

I am myself and I am here.

Death is a continuation of my life without me.

Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that’s all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition.

We must act out passion before we can feel it.

Life has no meaning a priori, It is up to you to give it a meaning, and value is nothing but the meaning that you choose.

The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.

When the rich wage war it’s the poor who die.

If I became a philosopher, if I have so keenly sought this fame for which I’m still waiting, it’s all been to seduce women basically.

Do you think that I count the days? There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.

Existence is not something which lets itself be thought of from a distance; it must invade you suddenly, master you, weigh heavily on your heart like a great motionless beast – or else there is nothing at all.

And I know this world is so cold and deceiving but I keep my head up like my nose is bleeding.

I imagine myself cold as ice falling into your open arms. Everyone says it’s beautiful where I am but I’d rather be where you are.

The moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.

If you allow coldness to engulf you before winter, season is helpless to help you.

The cold consumes me. The oceans in my eyes freeze. It’s 2 AM and I can’t move. Your loss is too much to bear.

Why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?

Workmen’s compensation, hours and conditions of labor are cold consolations, if there be no employment.

In 1968, I became a vegetarian after realizing that animals feel afraid, cold, hungry, and unhappy like we do.