I can receive nothing more from these tragic solitudes than a little empty purity.

Existence is an imperfection.

The appearance of the other in the world corresponds therefore to a congealed sliding of the whole universe.

There are two kinds of existentialist; first, those who are Christian...and on the other hand the atheistic existentialists, among whom...I class myself. What they have in common is that they think that existence precedes essence, or, if you prefer, that subjectivity must be the turning point.

We will not go to Heaven,Goetz, and even if we both entered it, we would not have eyes to see each other, nor hands to touch each other. Up there, God gets all the attention.... We can only love on this earth and against God.

Time is too large, it can't be filled up. Everything you plunge into it is stretched and disintegrates.

I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in . . . but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted.