I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

Something must happen; that is the reason for most human relationships. Something must happen; even servitude in love, in war, ordeath.

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

But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?

What would become of the world if the condemned started to confide their heartaches to the executioners?

Only it takes time to be happy. A lot of time. Happiness, too, is a long patience.

The more I accuse myself, the more right I have to judge you. Even better, I make you judge yourself, which comforts me the more.