The desire for possession is insatiable, to such a point that it can survive even love itself. To love, therefore, is to sterilize the person one loves.

But,' I reminded myself, 'it's common knowledge that life isn't worth living, anyhow.

The absurd depends as much on man as on the world. For the moment, it is all that links them together.

There is not one talent for living and another for creating. The same suffices for both. And one can be sure that the talent that could not produce but an artificial work could not sustain but a frivolous life.

Absolute virtue is impossible and the republic of forgiveness leads, with implacable logic, to the republic of the guillotine.

On my way out I was even going to shake his hand, but I remembered just in time that I'd killed a man.

One dies if necessary, one breaks rather than bending. But I bend, because I continue to love myself.