I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth. Perhaps the mission of those who love mankind is to make people laugh at the truth, to make truth laugh, because the only truth lies in learning to free ourselves from insane passion for the truth.

All around me the world lies like an immense hypothesis that I no longer verify.

Misconceptions play a prominent role in my view of the world.

All too easily, we confuse the world as we symbolize it with the world as it is.

History is a blood-drenched enigma and the world an error.

We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us.

The world is incomprehensible. We won’t ever understand it; we won’t ever unravel its secrets. Thus we must treat the world as it is: a sheer mystery.

The world is a very puzzling place. If you're not willing to be puzzled, you just become a replica of someone else's mind.

We know so very little about this strange planet we live on, this haunted world where all answers lead only to more mystery.

Not how the world is, but that it is, is the mystery.

It might be possible that the world itself is without meaning.

The bulk of the world's knowledge is an imaginary construction.

Yet as the world becomes more intelligible, it also becomes more mysterious - not, perhaps, in the sense of being problematic and baffling, but of being immeasurably grander, vaster, more complex, and, indeed, more imaginative than we had supposed.

For moral reasons ... the world appears to me to be put together in such a painful way that I prefer to believe that it was not created ... intentionally.