To know what life is worth you have to risk it once in a while.

It is therefore senseless to think of complaining since nothing foreign has decided what we feel, what we live, or what we are.

But for me there is neither Monday nor Sunday: there are days which pass in disorder, and then, sudden lightning like this one. Nothing has changed and yet everything is different. I can't describe it, it's like the Nausea and yet it's just the opposite: at last an adventure happens to me and when I question myself I see that it happens that I am myself and that I am here; I am the one who splits in the night, I am as happy as the hero of a novel.

When she is alone in the rooms I hear her humming to keep herself from thinking.

Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance.

If a Jew is fascinated by Christians it is not because of their virtues, which he values little, but because they represent anonymity, humanity without race.

Man is what he wills himself to be.