I am alive again, now that I can no longer stand to live.

Sometimes, carrying on, just carrying on, is the superhuman achievement.

There is no shame in preferring happiness.

At 30 a man should know himself like the palm of his hand, know the exact number of his defects and qualities, know how far he can go, foretell his failures - be what he is. And, above all, accept these things.

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

One dies if necessary, one breaks rather than bending. But I bend, because I continue to love myself.

I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy. Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace. And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness.