Have you noticed that only death arouses our emotions? How we love thee friends who have just passed away, right? How we admire those master who no longer speak, their mouths full of dirt. We them we are not obligated.

Absurd- that is the light mind that establishes its own borders.

A character is never the author who created him. It is quite likely, however, that an author may be all his characters simultaneously.

What's natural is the microbe. All the rest-heath, integrity, purity (if you like)-is a product of the human will, of a vigilance that must never falter. The good man, the man who infects hardly anyone, is the man who has the fewest lapses of attention.

Whoever today speaks of human existence in terms of power, efficiency, and historical tasks is an actual or potential assassin.

At the age of 40, having ordered meat very rare in restaurants all his life, he realized he actually liked it medium and not at all rare.

I cling like a miser to the freedom that disappears as soon as there is an excess of things.