The lad who dreams of being a boxing champion or an admiral chooses reality. If the writer chooses the imaginary, he confuses the two.

To think new thoughts you have to break the bones in your head

it was odd, he thought, that a man could hate himself as though he were someone else.

Man is abandoned on earth in the midst of his infinite responsibilities, without help, with no aim but what he sets himself.

There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours.

One is still what one is going to cease to be and already what one is going to become. One lives one's death, one dies one's life.

I wanted the moments of my life to follow and order themselves like those of a life remembered. You might as well try and catch time by the tail.