This is the basis for the joy of love when there is joy; we feel that our existence is justified.

The real nature of the present revealed itself: it was what exists, all that was not present did not exist.

To choose not to choose is still to act.

He loves me, he doesn't love my bowels, if they showed him my appendix in a glass he wouldn't recognize it, he's always feeling me, but if they put the glass in his hands he wouldn't touch it, he wouldn't think, "that's hers," you ought to love all of somebody, the esophagus, the liver, the intestines. Maybe we don't love them because we aren't used to them, but if we saw them the way we saw our hands and arms maybe we'd love them; the starfish must love each other better than we do.

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

So much torture, bloodshed, deceit. You cannot make your young people practice torture twenty-four hours a day and not expect to pay a price for it.

I think of death only with tranquility, as an end. I refuse to let death hamper life. Death must enter life only to define it.