You will never be able to experience everything. So, please, do poetical justice to your soul and simply experience yourself.

I was born poor and without religion, under a happy sky, feeling harmony, not hostility, in nature. I began not by feeling torn, but in plenitude.

After all perhaps the greatness of art lies in the perpetual tension between beauty and pain, the love of men and the madness of creation, unbearable solitude and the exhausting crowd, rejection and consent.

In order to exist, man must rebel.

The work of art is born of the intelligence's refusal to reason the concrete. It marks the triumph of the carnal.

The myth of unlimited production brings war in its train as inevitably as clouds announce a storm.

Children will still die unjustly even in a perfect society. Even by his greatest effort, man can only propose to diminish, arithmetically, the sufferings of the world.