Everything comes to us from others. To Be is to belong to someone.

You are -- your life, and nothing else.

Once liberty has exploded in the soul of a man, the gods can do nothing against that man.

He walked on in silence, the solitary sound of his footsteps echoing in his head, as in a deserted street, at dawn. His solitude was so complete, beneath a lovely sky as mellow and serene as a good conscience, amid that busy throng, that he was amazed at his own existence; he must be somebody else's nightmare, and whoever it was would certainly awaken soon.

Everything has been figured out, except how to live.

I had realized in the meantime that action too has its difficulties, and that one can also be led to it by neurosis. We are not saved by politics any more than by literature.

Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.