The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

If it were possible to have a life absolutely free from every feeling of sin, what a terrifying vacuum it would be.

At great periods you have always felt, deep within you, the temptation to commit suicide. You gave yourself to it, breached your own defenses. You were a child. The idea of suicide was a protest against life; by dying, you would escape this longing for death.

The art of living is the art of knowing how to believe lies.

There is only one pleasure-that of being alive. All the rest is misery.

The art of living is the art of knowing how to believe lies. The fearful thing about it is that, not knowing what truth may be, we can still recognize lies.

A work settles nothing, just as the labor of a whole generation settles nothing. Sons, and the morrow, always start afresh.