Never To Have Occasion To Take A

One Cannot Live Without Motives. I Have No Motives Left, And I Am Living.

Were We To Undertake An Exhaustive Self-scrutiny, Disgust Would Paralyze Us, We Would Be Doomed To A Thankless Existence.

We Dread The Future Only When We Are Not Sure We Can Kill Ourselves When We Want To.

Every Thought Derives From A Thwarted Sensation.

I Try--without Success--to Stop Finding Reasons For Vanity In Anything. When I Happen To Manage It Nonetheless, I Feel That I No Longer Belong To The Mortal Gang. I Am Above Everything Then, Above The Gods Themselves. Perhaps That Is What Death Is: A Sensation Of Great, Of Extreme Superiority.