So that is what hell is. I would never have believed it. You remember: the fire and brimstone, the torture. Ah! the farce. There is no need for torture: Hell is other people.

I have seen children dying of hunger. Over against a dying child La Nausee cannot act as a counterweight.

A writer must refuse to allow himself to be transformed into an institution.

Ah! yes, I know: those who see me rarely trust my word: I must look too intelligent to keep it.

We only become what we are by the radical and deep-seated refusal of that which others have made of us.

That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget.

There is no love apart from the deeds of love; no potentiality of love other than that which is manifested in loving.