It is meaningless that we are born, it is meaningless that we die.
I suppose it is out of laziness that the world is the same day after day. Today it seemed to want to change. And then anything, anything could happen.
I am neither virgin nor priest enough to play with the inner life.
I hate victims who respect their executioners.
I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves.
Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.