Men and women consume one another rapidly in what is called "the act of love," or else settle down to a mild habit of conjugality. We seldom find a mean between these two extremes.

But, you know, I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints. Heroism and sanctity don't really appeal to me, I imagine. What interests me is being a man.

he's incapable of suffering for a long time, or being happy for a long time. Which means that he's incapable of anything really worth while.

Can one be a saint if God does not exist? That is the only concrete problem I know of today.

No one who lives in the sunlight of gratitude that things aren't worse makes a failure of his or her life.

I was absent at the moment I took up the most space.

It was previously a question of finding out whether or not life had to have a meaning to be lived. It now becomes clear on the contrary that it will be lived all the better if it has no meaning