What we call happiness is what we do not know.

I am a physician. I keep a drug-shop of lies. I give relief, consolation. Can one console and relieve without lying? ... Only women and doctors know how necessary and how helpful lies are to men.

The truth is that life is delicious, horrible, charming, frightful, sweet, bitter, and that is everything.

Justice is the sanction of established injustice.

All the good writers of confessions, from Augustine onwards, are men who are still a little in love with their sins.

Chance is perhaps the pseudonym of God when he did not want to sign.

Devout believers are safeguarded in a high degree against the risk of certain neurotic illnesses; their acceptance of the universal neurosis spares them the task of constructing a personal one.