Torment yourself as little as possible, then you'll torment me less.

Hiding places there are innumerable, escape is only one, but possibilities of escape, again, are as many as hiding places.

Love has as few problems as a motor car. The only problems are the driver, the passengers, and the road.

This inescapable duty to observe oneself: if someone else is observing me, naturally I have to observe myself too; if none observe me, I have to observe myself all the closer.

I need solitude for my writing; not 'like a hermit' - that wouldn't be enough - but like a dead man.

Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate... but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins.

There was once a community of scoundrels, that is to say, they were not scoundrels, but ordinary people.