We used to wonder where war lived, what it was that made it so vile. And now we realize that we know where it lives... inside ourselves.

As soon as one does not kill oneself, one must keep silent about life.

For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.

I can feel this heart inside me and I conclude it exists. I can touch this world and I also conclude that it exists. All my knowledge ends at this point. The rest is hypothesis.

In Oran, as elsewhere, for want of time and thought, people have to love one another without knowing it.

There are always reasons for murdering a man. But there is no justification for his existence.

If one could only say just once: 'this is clear', all would be saved