One doesn't live in a country, one lives in a language.

All the concessions we make to Eros are holes in our desire for the absolute.

The literary man? An indiscreet man, who devaluates his miseries, divulges them, tells them like so many beads: immodesty-the sideshow of second thoughts-is his rule; he offers himself.

Knowledge, having irritated and stimulated our appetite for power, will lead us inexorably to our ruin.

We cannot consent to be judged by someone who has suffered less than ourselves. And since each of us regards himself as an unrecognized Job.

The obsession with suicide is characteristic of the man who can neither live nor die, and whose attention never swerves from this double impossibility.

Glory - once achieved, what is it worth?