Those who think with their reason tend to be distracted. Those who think with their emotions are sleeping. Those who think with their will are dead.
Let us always search for the impossible, since that is our destiny, and let us search for it by way of the useless, since no path goes by any other way, but let us rise to the consciousness that nothing we search for can be found, and that nothing along the way deserves a fond kiss or memory.
To submit to nothing, whether to a man or a love or an idea, and to have the aloof independence of not believing in the truth or even (if it existed) in the usefulness of knowing it – this seems to me the right attitude for the intellectual inner life of those who can't live without thinking.
I have to choose what I detest – either dreaming, which my intelligence hates, or action, which my sensibility loathes; either action, for which I wasn't born, or dreaming, for which no one was born. Detesting both, I choose neither; but since I must on occasion either dream or act, I mix the two things together.
In this world we're all travelers on the same ship that has set sail from one unknown port en route to another equally foreign to us; we should treat each other, therefore, with the friendliness due to fellow travelers.
I excuse you from having to appear in my idea of you.