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.

We must act out passion before we can feel it.

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.

Everything that exists is born for no reason, carries on living through weakness, and dies by accident

One could only damage oneself through the harm one did to others. One could never get directly at oneself.

To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June

I was escaping from Nature and at last becoming myself, that Other whom I was aspiring to be in the eyes of others.