What is human in me is not what is best in me. What is human in me is that I desire, and to obtain what I desire, I believe I would crush anything that stood in my way.

But what does it mean, the plague? It's life, that's all.

But in order to speak about all and to all, one has to speak of what all know and of the reality common to us all. The seas, rains, necessity, desire, the struggle against death--these are things that unite us all. We resemble one another in what we see together, in what we suffer together. Dreams change from individual, but the reality of the world is common to us all. Striving towards realism is therefore legitimate, for it is basically related to the artistic adventure.

how hard it must be to live only with what one knows and what one remembers, cut off from what one hopes for!

That's love, giving everything, sacrificing all without hope of return.

One of the only coherent philosophical positions is thus revolt. It is a constant confrontation between man and his own obscurity.

[Many artists], even the greatest ones, are not sure of their own existence. So they search for proof, they judge, they condemn. It strengthens them, it is the beginnings of existence. They are alone!