The most loathsome materialism is not the kind people usually think of, but the sort that attempts to let dead ideas pass for living realities, diverting into sterile myths the stubborn and lucid attention we give to what we have within us that must forever die.

We used to wonder where war lived, what it was that made it so vile. And now we realize that we know where it lives... inside ourselves.

The real passion of the twentieth century is servitude.

When I look at my life and its secret colors, I feel like bursting into tears.

Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.

The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

You cannot acquire experience by making experiments. You cannot create experience. You must undergo it.