The innocent is the person who explains nothing

I rebel; therefore I exist.

When one has no character, one HAS to apply a method. Here it did wonders incontrovertibly, and I am living on the site of one of the greatest crimes in human history.

Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can't be sure.

No, Father, I've a very different idea of love. And until my dying day I shall refuse to love a scheme of things in which children are put to torture.

Yes, and when the love of life disappears, no meaning can console us.

History only exists, in the final analysis, for God.