Ah! my friend, for whomever is alone, without a god and without a master, the weight of time is terrible. One must then choose a master, God being out of style.

The only conception of freedom I can have is that of the prisoner or the individual in the midst of the State. The only one I know is freedom of thought and action.

I've never really had much of an imagination. But still I would try to picture the exact moment when the beating of my heart would no longer be going on inside my head.

Without work, all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.

In our society, any man who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral is liable to be condemned to death.

All men have a sweetness in their life. That is what helps them go on. It is towards that they turn when they feel too worn out.

Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.' That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday.