How hard it is, how bitter it is to become a man!

[Paris] is dirty. It has pigeons and black yards. The people have white skin.

In Italian museums are sometimes found little painted screens that the priest used to hold in front of the face of condemned men to hide the scaffold from them.

Don't wait for the last judgment - it takes place every day.

I spent a long time looking at faces, drinking in smiles. Am I happy or unhappy? It’s not a very important question. I live with such frenzied intensity. Things and people are waiting for me, and doubtless I am waiting for them and desiring them with all my strength and sadness. But, here, I earn the right to be alive by silence and by secrecy. The miracle of not having to talk about oneself.

I am too far away from what I love and my distance is without remedy.

The great courage is to stare as squarely at the light as at death.