The more dignity is widely and freely available in a society, the less people want to be famous.

So many complaints boil down to the belly ache of the fragile, mortal, ignored ego in a vast and indifferent universe.

When Proust urges us to evaluate the world properly, he repeatedly reminds us of the value of modest scenes.

Those who divorce aren't necessarily the most unhappy, just those neatly able to believe their misery is caused by one other person.

Out of the millions of people we live among, most of whom we habitually ignore and are ignored by in turn, there are always a few that hold hostage our capacity for happiness, whom we could recognize by their smell alone and whom we would rather die than be without.

What I want to argue for is not that we should give up on our ideas of success, but that we should make sure that they are our own. We should focus in on our ideas and make sure that we own them, that we're truly the authors of our own ambitions. Because it's bad enough not getting what you want, but it's even worse to have an idea of what it is you want and find out at the end of the journey that it isn't, in fact, what you wanted all along.

The universe is large and we are tiny, without the need for further religious superstructure. One can have so-called spiritual moments without belief in the spirit.