Absolute freedom mocks at justice. Absolute justice denies freedom.

Freedom is nothing but a chance to be better.

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

Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.

Art and revolt will die only with the last man.

Freedom is not a gift received from the State or leader, but a possession to be won every day by the effort of each and the union of all.

The most loathsome materialism is not the kind people usually think of, but the sort that attempts to let dead ideas pass for living realities, diverting into sterile myths the stubborn and lucid attention we give to what we have within us that must forever die.