life is a story and god is author.life is absurd.I think so.

Here lives a free man. Nobody serves him.

Myths are made for the imagination to breath life into them.

So the thing that bothered me most was that the condemned man had to hope the machine would work the first time.

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.

Sometimes at night I would sleep open-eyed underneath a sky dripping with stars. I was alive then.

True debauchery is liberating because it creates no obligations. In it you possess only yourself, hence it remains the favorite pastime of the great lovers of their own person.