The skeptic is the least mysterious man in the world, and yet, starting from a certain moment, he no longer belongs to this world. - Emil Cioran

I do not forgive myself for being born. It is as if, creeping into this world, I had profaned a mystery, betrayed some momentous pledge, committed a fault of nameless gravity. Yet in a less assured mood, birth seems a calamity I would be miserable not having known.

Mind, even more deadly to empires than to individuals, erodes them, compromises their solidity.

A word, once dissected, no longer signifies anything, is nothing. Like a body that, after an autopsy, is less than a corpse.