My Pessimism Has Never Been Flabby.

Absurd, Irreducible; Nothing — Not Even A Profound And Secret Delirium Of Nature — Could Explain It. Obviously I Did Not Know Everything, I Had Not Seen The Seeds Sprout, Or The Tree Grow. But Faced With This Great Wrinkled Paw, Neither Ignorance Nor Knowledge Was Important: The World Of Explanations And Reasons Is Not The World Of Existence. A Circle Is Not Absurd, It Is Clearly Explained By The Rotation Of A Straight Segment Around One Of Its Extremities. But Neither Does A Circle Exist. This Root, On The Other Hand, Existed In Such A Way That I Could Not Explain It.

I Hate Victims Who Respect Their Executioners.

Existence Is An Imperfection.

Fascism Is Not Defined By The Number Of Its Victims, But By The Way It Kills Them.

So Long As One Believes In God, One Has The Right To Do The Good In Order To Be Moral.