men dream: but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake
in the day to find that it was a vanity:
But the dreamers of the day are dangerous men,
For they may act their dreams out with open eyes, to make it possible.
...This I did."
are never convinced of your reasons, of your sincerity, of the seriousness
of your sufferings, except by your death. So long as you are alive,
your case is doubtful; you have a right only to your skepticism.
debauchery is liberating because it creates no obligations. In it you
possess only yourself; hence it remains the favorite pastime of the
great lovers of their own person.
are not certain, we are never certain. If we were we could reach some
conclusions, and we could, at last, make others take us seriously.
me, there is no such thing as great suffering, great regret, great memory...
Everything is forgotten, even a great love. That's what's sad about
life, and also what's wonderful about it.
only conception of freedom I can have is that of the prisoner or the
individual in the midst of the State. The only one I know is freedom
of thought and action.
is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.
whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental
question of philosophy.
alone is an end unto himself. Everything one tries to do for the common
good ends in failure.
is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.
all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes, and our ravages.
But our task is not to unleash them on the world; it is to fight them
in ourselves and in others.
soon as a religion comes to dominate, it has as its opponents, all those
who would have been its first disciples.
Buddha was dead, his shadow was still shown in a cave, a tremendous,
gruesome shadow. God is dead; but given the way of men, there may still
be caves for thousands of years in which his shadow will be shown. And
we, we still have to vanquish his shadow, too.
are no facts, only interpretations.
word is a prejudice.