Do you believe in God, doctor?" No - but what does that really mean? I'm fumbling in the dark, struggling to make something out. But I've long ceased finding that original.

Thoughts of suicide have got me through many a bad night.

For instance, I never complained that my birthday was overlooked; people were even surprised, with a touch of admiration, by my discretion on this subject. But the reason for my disinterestedness was even more discreet: I longed to be forgotten in order to be able to complain to myself... Once my solitude was thoroughly proved, I could surrender to the charms of a virile self-pity.

One plays at being immortal and after a few weeks one doesn't even know whether or not one can hang on till the next day.

On my way out I was even going to shake his hand, but I remembered just in time that I'd killed a man.

Lucifer also has died with God, and from his ashes has arisen a spiteful demon who does not even understand the object of his venture.

He was expressing his certainty that my appeal would be granted, but I was carrying the burden of a sin from which I had to free myself. According to him, human justice was nothing and divine justice was everything. I pointed out it was the former that had condemned me.