After all perhaps the greatness of art lies in the perpetual tension between beauty and pain, the love of men and the madness of creation, unbearable solitude and the exhausting crowd, rejection and consent.
The absurd is the essential concept and the first truth.
Without freedom there is no art.
We spend our days in deliberating, and we end them without coming to any resolve.
From the evening breeze to this hand on my shoulder, everything has its truth.
Politics and the fate of mankind are formed by men without ideals and without greatness. Those who have greatness within them do not go in for politics.