It is not a matter of indifference whether we like oysters or clams, snails or shrimp, if only we know how to unravel the existential significance of these foods.

Nothingness lies coiled in the heart of being - like a worm.

We make our own hell out of the people around us.

I do not believe in God; his existence has been disproved by Science. But in the concentration camp, I learned to believe in men.

You see, the contemporary writer must write through his intimations of unease, while trying to elucidate them.

Then I realized what separated us: what I thought about him could not reach him; it was psychology, the kind they write about in books. But his judgment went through me like a sword and questioned my very right to exist. And it was true, I had always realized it; I hadn't the right to exist. I had appeared by chance, I existed like a stone, a plant or a microbe. My life put out feelers towards small pleasures in every direction. Sometimes it sent out vague signals; at other times I felt nothing more than a harmless buzzing.

One should commit no stupidity twice, the variety of choice is, in the end, large enough.