Is there really nothing, nothing left of me?

One does not adopt a new idea, one slips into it.

I will not be modest. Humble, as much as you like, but not modest. Modesty is the virtue of the lukewarm.

I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.

Man is not the sum of what he has already, but rather the sum of what he does not yet have, of what he could have.

The appearance of the other in the world corresponds therefore to a congealed sliding of the whole universe.

I admire [Samuel] Beckett, but I am totally against him. He seeks no improvement.