Don't lies eventually lead to the truth? And don't all my stories, true or false, tend toward the same conclusion? Don't they all have the same meaning? So what does it matter whether they are true or false if, in both cases, they are significant of what I have been and what I am? Sometimes it is easier to see clearly into the liar than into the man who tells the truth. Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.

To live is to hurt others, and through others, to hurt oneself. Cruel earth! How can we manage not to touch anything? To find what ultimate exile?

There is the good and the bad, the great and the low, the just and the unjust. I swear to you that all that will never change.

We get into the habit of living before acquiring the habit of thinking.

The revolutionary government was required to become the government of the war.

If one could only say just once: 'this is clear', all would be saved

Likewise, every time somebody interjects to speak of my honesty there is someone who quivers inside me.