I make myself strict rules in order to correct my nature. But it is my nature that I finally obey.

In normal times all of us know, whether consciously or not, that there is no love which can't be bettered; nevertheless, we reconcile ourselves more or less easily to the fact that ours has never risen above the average.

We spend our days in deliberating, and we end them without coming to any resolve.

I know of only one duty, and that is to love.

To correct a natural indifference I was placed half-way between misery and the sun. Misery kept me from believing that all was well under the sun, and the sun taught me that history wasn't everything.

The workman of today works every day in his life at the same tasks, and this fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious.

There is only one class of men, the privileged class