Thus I progressed on the surface of life, in the realm of words as it were, never in reality. All those books barely read, those friends barely loved, those cities barely visited, those women barely possessed! I went through the gestures out of boredom or absent-mindedness. Then came human beings; they wanted to cling, but there was nothing to cling to, and that was unfortunate--for them. As for me, I forgot. I never remembered anything but myself.

In the light, the earth remains our first and our last love. Our brothers are breathing under the same sky as we; justice is a living thing. Now is born that strange joy which helps one live and die, and which we shall never again postpone to a later time.

In every guilty man, there is some innocence. This makes every absolute condemnation revolting.

There is no frontier between being and appearing.

I want to know if I can live with what I know, and only than.

At any street corner the feeling of absurdity can strike any man in the face.

Nothing in life is worth, turning your back on, if you love it.