In the hours without sleep, each moment is so full and so vacant that it suggests itself as a rival of Time.

We die in proportion to the words we fling around us.

The Art of Love: knowing how to combine the temperament of a vampire with the discretion of an anemone.

What strangely enchanted tunes gush forth during those sleepless nights!

Suffering makes you live time in detail, moment after moment. Which is to say that it exists for you: over the others, the ones who don't suffer, time flows, so that they don't live in time, in fact they never have.

What every man who loves his country hopes for in his inmost heart: the suppression of half his compatriots.

No one can enjoy freedom without trembling.