Death is a continuation of my life without me.

For the time being I have seen enough of living things, of dogs, of men, of all flabby masses which move spontaneously.

Better to have beasts that let themselves be killed than men who run away.

The more one is absorbed in fighting evil, the less one is tempted to place the good in question.

At times discreetly, at times disgustingly, I yielded to the most fatal temptation whenever I could no longer bear it: as a result of impatience, Orpheus lost Eurydice; as a result of impatience, I lost myself.

I have always been happy. Even if I had been more honest with regard to myself at that moment I should still have written La Nausee.

Be quiet! Anyone can spit in my face, and call me a criminal and a prostitute. But no one has the right to judge my remorse.