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The farther men get from God, the farther they advance into the knowledge of religions.
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When you know quite absolutely that everything is unreal, you then cannot see why you should take the trouble to prove it.
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If we could sleep twenty-four hours a day, we would soon return to the primordial slime, the beatitude of that perfect torpor before Genesis-the dream of every consciousness sick of itself.
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How many disappointments are conducive to bitterness? One or a thousand, depending on the subject.
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The wrinkles of a nation are as visible as those of an individual.
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If you don't want to explode with rage, leave your memory alone, abstain from burrowing there.
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If each of us were to confess his most secret desire, the one that inspires all his plans, all his actions, he would say: "I want to be praised."
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How easy it is to be "deep": all you have to do is let yourself sink into your own flaws.
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He who hates himself is not humble.
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No one has the audacity to exclaim: 'I don’t want to do anything!' -we are more indulgent with a murderer than with a mind emancipated from actions.
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Love of the absolute engenders a predilection for self-destruction. Hence the passion for monasteries and brothels. Cells and women, in both cases. Weariness with life fares well in the shadow of whores and saintly women.
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Espousing the melancholy of ancient symbols, I would have freed myself.
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They ask you for facts, proofs, works, and all you can show them are transformed tears.
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Criticism is a misconception: we must read not to understand others but to understand ourselves.
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We understand God by everything in ourselves that is fragmentary, incomplete, and inopportune.
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I'm simply an accident. Why take it all so seriously?
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It is unjust to call imaginary the diseases which are, on the contrary, only too real, since they proceed from our mind, the only regulator of our equilibrium and our health.
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'Neither this world, nor the next, nor happiness are for the being abandoned to doubt.' - This point in the Gita is my death sentence.
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The ideal being? An angel ravaged by humor.
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Eternity is absence.
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Only optimists commit suicide, the optimists who can no longer be...optimists. The others, having no reason to live, why should they have any to die?
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Existence would be a quite impracticable enterprise if we stopped granting importance to what has none.
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Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart.
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The skepticism which fails to contribute to the ruin of our health is merely an intellectual exercise.