• Aspire, the deepest inside oneself, to be so deprived, to be so lamentable as God.

• What I know at sixty years old, I already knew it at twenty. Forty years of a large, superfluous confirmation work.

• I'd like to be free, unimaginably free. Free as an aborted being.

• As the years pass, the number of beings with which one can understand diminishes. When there is no one else to whom speak, we'll finally be just as we were before succumb in a name.

• Some have disgraces; others, obsessions. Who are most worthy of shame?

• When I walked around, late, through the tree bordered road, a chestnut fell to my feet. The noise it made when exploding, the echo that it raised in me, and a disproportionate tremor with regard to that tiny incident, submerged me in the miracle, in the intoxication of the definitive, as if there already were not more questions, but answers. I felt drunk because of a thousand unexpected evidences with which I didn't know what to do...

• It was this way as I was about to reach my supreme moment. But I believed preferable going on ahead.

• According to San Benito's rule, if a monk became proud, or just happy of his work, he should move away from it and abandon it.

• Here is a danger that doesn't fear the fact that it has lived in the appetite of dissatisfaction, in the orgy of remorse and revulsion.

• I have always searched previous landscapes to God. Hence my weakness towards Chaos.

• I only understand each other well with somebody who is in the lowest of itself, without the desire neither the force of recovering his habitual illusions

• There are nights which neither the most ingenious torturer could have invented. One comes out undone, stupid, lost. Without memories neither premonitions, and without knowing at least who it is been. And then it is when the day seems useless, and the light pernicious and more oppresive than the darkness.

• More than one time it has occured to me leaving the house because, if I had stayed, I would not be sure of being able to resist any sudden resolution. The street is more calming because one thinks less on oneself, and because in her everything weakens and deteriorates, beginning with the anguishes.

• -What do you do all day?
  -I stand myself.

• Someone, I don't know who, said that one should not go without the "pleasure of pity".
  Has been religion justified at any time in a more delicate way?

• "Oh Satan, my Master, I surrender to you for ever";. how I am sorry for forgetting the nun's name who, having written this with a nail anointed in its blood, she deserved to figure in a prayer and laconism anthology.

• The day that I read the list of almost all the words that Sanskrit provides to designate the absolute, I understood that I had made a mistake on the way, of country, of language.

• In spite of her white hair she continued being in the prostitution. I often found her in the Latin Neighborhood near three o'clock in the morning, and I didn't like to return home without hear her relate some feats or anecdotes. I have forgotten as much the feats as the anecdotes. But I cannot forget the speed with which, one night in which I began to rave against all those "lousy" who slept, she commented, lifting the index toward the sky: "And what do you say about the lousy one up there ?"

• "That who has inclinations toward lust is compassionate and merciful; those who have inclination toward purity are not" (Saint John Clímaco)
  To denounce with such a clarity and vigor, not the lies, but the same Christian morals essence, and of any morals, was to subdue a saint, no more, no less.

• The undespicable advantage of having hated men a lot it is to finally end up supporting them by exhaustion of that same hate.

• To measure well the setback Christianity represents with regard to paganism, it's enough to compare the meanness that Church priests propagate on suicide, with the opinions emitted by Plinio, Séneca and Cicerón inclusive.

• Sometimes one would like to be a cannibal, not because of the pleasure of devouring a what's his name or a so-and-so but for vomiting him.

• I will never understand how can one lives knowing that he is not, at least, eternal.

• When, furious of having habituated us to ourselves, we begin to wean ourselves, we soon realize that it is worse, that hating reinforces more yet the knots with oneself.

• It should be established the truth degree of a religion from the importance that this grants to the Demon; the more it gives him a prominent place, the more it attests that it worries about the real thing, rejects trickeries and lie, affirms its satiety and cares more about check than digress, than console..

Phrases taken from: "El inconveniente de haber nacido", E. M. Cioran, Taurus Ediciones, 1991