To write is to become disinterested. There is a certain renunciation in art.

But, you know, I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints. Heroism and sanctity don't really appeal to me, I imagine. What interests me is being a man.

The look of success, when it is worn a certain way, would infuriate a jackass.

When one has no character, one HAS to apply a method. Here it did wonders incontrovertibly, and I am living on the site of one of the greatest crimes in human history.

This divorce between man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity.

Man is an idea, and a precious small idea once he turns his back on love.

In the light, the earth remains our first and our last love. Our brothers are breathing under the same sky as we; justice is a living thing. Now is born that strange joy which helps one live and die, and which we shall never again postpone to a later time.