It's been a long time since I've been me.

Stones in the road? I save every single one, and one day I'll build a castle.

Let's buy books so as not to read them; let's go to concerts without caring to hear the music or see who's there; let's take long walks because we're sick of walking; and let's spend whole days in the country, just because it bores us.

Whether or not they exist we are slaves to our gods.

If I write what I feel, it's to reduce the fever of feeling. What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant.

There's something vile (and all the more vile because ridiculous) in the tendency of feeble men to make universal tragedies out of the sad comedies of their private woes.

Should you ask me if I'm happy, I'll answer that I'm not.