If there were no emptiness, there would be no life.

If one has no vanity in this life of ours, there is no sufficient reason for living.

We have nothing to live but life itself.

There are no vital and significant forms of art; there is only art, and precious little of that.

There is no wealth but life.

Art teaches nothing except the significance of life.

Life is more important than art — quantity is only important in that the amount of activity is greater not the number of works.

All art is quite useless.

Without electricity, there can be no art.

Music is essentially useless, as life is.

Where the spirit does not work with the hand, there is no art.

Whatever is merely positive is lifeless. Negativity is essential to vitality.

We have no literature, no art, no pursuit of beauty and enjoyment. We cannot even speak of love.… Princeps, is there meaning to such a life?

If life — the craving for which is the very essence of our being — were possessed of any positive intrinsic value, there would be no such thing as boredom at all: mere existence would satisfy us in itself, and we should want for nothing.