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

To be born to create, to love, to win at games is to be born to live in time of peace. But war teaches us to lose everything and become what we were not. It all becomes a question of style.

Every minute of life carries with it its miraculous value, and its face of eternal youth.

The rebel can never find peace. He knows what is good and, despite himself, does evil. The value which supports him is never given to him once and for all - he must fight to uphold it, unceasingly.

His own faith, however, was not lacking in virtues since it consisted in acknowledging obscurely that he would be granted much without ever deserving anything.

There will be no lasting peace either in the heart of individuals or in social customs until death is outlawed.

Culture: the cry of men in face of their destiny.