The best revenge you can have on intellectuals is to be madly happy.

It is easier to kill what we do not know.

For what gives value to travel is fear. It breaks down a kind of inner structure we have. Travel robs us of such refuge. Far from our own people, our own language, stripped of all our props, deprived of our masks (one doesn't know the fare on the streetcars, or anything else), we are completely on the surface of ourselves.

People have played on words and pretended to believe that refusing to grant a meaning to life necessarily leads to declaring that it is not worth living. In truth, there is no necessary common measure between these two judgments.

Find your happiness in yourself.

To abandon oneself to principles is really to die - and to die for an impossible love which is the contrary of love.

The myth of unlimited production brings war in its train as inevitably as clouds announce a storm.