Gentlemen, let us suppose that man is not stupid. (Indeed one cannot refuse to suppose that, if only from the one consideration, that, if man is stupid, then who is wise?) But if he is not stupid, he is monstrously ungrateful! Phenomenally ungrateful. In fact, I believe that the best definition of man is the ungrateful biped.

I punish myself for my whole life, my whole life I punish.

It seems, in fact, as though the second half of a man's life is made up of nothing, but the habits he has accumulated during the first half.

Grown-up people do not know that a child can give exceedingly good advice even in the most difficult case.

I don’t even know what I’m writing, I have no idea, I don’t know anything, and I’m not reading over it, and I’m not correcting my style, and I’m writing just for the sake of writing, just for the sake of writing more to you… My precious, my darling, my dearest!

One circumstance tormented me then: Namely, that no one else was like me, and I was like no one else. I am only one, and they are all.

Man, so long as he remains free, has no more constant and agonizing anxiety than find as quickly as possible someone to worship.