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

Have you noticed that only death arouses our emotions? How we love thee friends who have just passed away, right? How we admire those master who no longer speak, their mouths full of dirt. We them we are not obligated.

Je puis nier une chose sans me croire obligé de la salir ou de retirer aux autres le droit d'y croire.

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.

One of the only coherent philosophical positions is thus revolt. It is a constant confrontation between man and his own obscurity.

The mind's deepest desire, even in its most elaborate operations, parallels man's unconscious feeling in the face of his universe: it is an insistence upon familiarity, an appetite for clarity.

I draw from the Absurd three consequences: my revolt, my liberty, my passion.