After another moment's silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.

The struggle to reach the top is itself enough to fulfill the heart of man. One must believe that Sisyphus is happy.

If we understood the enigmas of life there would be no need for art.

Whoever gives nothing, has nothing. The greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love.

I explained to him, however, that my nature was such that my physical needs often got in the way of my feelings.

To grow old is to pass from passion to compassion.

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.