Turbulent childhood, adolescent daydreams in the drone of the bus's motor, mornings, unspoiled girls, beaches, young muscles always at the peak of their effort, evening's slight anxiety in a sixteen-year-old-heart, lust for life, fame, and ever the same sky through the years, unfailing in strength and light, itself insatiable, consuming one by one over a period of months the victims stretched out in the form of crosses on the beach at the deathlike hour of noon.

Man cannot do without beauty, and this is what our era pretends to want to disregard.

I said that the world is absurd, but I was too hasty. This world in itself is not reasonable, that is all that can be said. But what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart.

[Liberty] is a choreand a long-distance race, quite solitary, quite exhausting.

In order to be created, a work of art must first make use of the dark forces of the soul

Of course, true love is exceptional - two or three times a century, more or less. The rest of the time there is vanity or boredom.

Your successes and happiness are forgiven you only if you generously consent to share them.