Everybody knows life isn't worth living.

I like people who dream or talk to themselves interminably; I like them, for they are double. They are here and elsewhere.

If, after all, men cannot always make history have a meaning, they can always act so that their own lives have one.

I have never been able to renounce the light, the pleasure of being, and the freedom in which I grew up.

The harshest winter finds an invincible summer in us.

Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.

For if I try to seize this self of which I feel sure, if I try to define and to summarize it, it is nothing but water slipping through my fingers.