If those whom we begin to love could know us as we were before meeting them they could perceive what they have made of us.

He was conscious of the disastrous fact that love and desire must be expressed in the same way.

Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.' That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday.

The struggle to reach the top is itself enough to fulfill the heart of man. One must believe that Sisyphus is happy.

Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can't be sure.

The world in which we were called to exist was an absurd world, and there was no other in which we could take refuge.

The world is unimportant and whoever recognizes this conquers his liberty.