The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

This divorce between man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity.

... there are two types of happiness and I have chosen that of the murderers. For I am happy. There was a time when I thought I had reached the limit of distress. Beyond that limit, there is a sterile and magnificent happiness.

Am well. Thinking of you always. Love

If man is reduced to being nothing but a character in history, he has no other choice but to subside into the sound and fury of acompletely irrational history or to endow history with the form of human reason.

In Holland, everyone is an expert in painting and in tulips.

It occurred to me that anyway one more Sunday was over that Maman was buried now, that I was going back to work, and that, really, nothing had changed.