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

Those who love, friends and lovers, know that love is not only a blinding flash, but also a long and painful struggle in the darkness for the realization of definitive recognition and reconciliation.

Thus each of us had to be content to live only for the day, alone under the vast indifference of the sky.

My dear friend, we mustn't give them even the slightest excuse to judge us! Otherwise, we end up in pieces.

Murder is terribly exhausting.

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.

Whoever gives nothing, has nothing. The greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love.