But do you know why we are always more just and generous toward the dead? The reason is simple. With them there is no obligation. They leave us free and we can take our time, fit the testimonial between a cocktail party and a nice little mistress, in our spare time, in short.

Death means nothing to men like me. It's the event that proves them right.

Happiness implied a choice, and within that choice a concerted will, a lucid desire.

Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him?

But what does it mean, the plague? It's life, that's all.

There are people who vindicate the world, who help others live just by their presence.

There is nothing abstract about pain. It is specific, it is real, and, when it is intense, it is world destroying.