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.

Purely historical thought is therefore nihilistic: it wholeheartedly accepts the evil of history and in this way is opposed to rebellion.

Real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present.

When love ceases to be tragic it is something else and the individual again throws himself in search of tragedy.

For if I try to seize this self of which I feel sure, if I try to define and to summarize it, it is nothing but water slipping through my fingers.

I felt as though I was partly unlearning what i had never learned and yet knew so well: I mean, how to live.

Since we're all going to die, it's obvious that when and how don't matter.