
From every ruin, life springs up again and everything that dies is born again.

The savage hatred I feel for crowds is getting worse, natural enemies that they are of imagination and of thought.

No prayers, no medicines, merely the ineffable happiness of dying.

I feel alone, free, and detached from everything in the world, and I'm happy.

I think it is impossible for human minds to think of Death as a final, irrevocable end to life.

Crime, particularly among the poor and downtrodden, is often a last gesture of liberty.

The farther behind I leave the past, the closer I am to forging my own character.

One must never look for happiness: one meets it by the way.

For now it seems that by advancing into unknown territories, I entered into my life

We are, all of us, poor wretches, and those who prefer not to understand this are even worse off than the rest of us.