Philosophy which does not help to illuminate the process of the liberation of the oppressed should be rejected.

Hell is for other people.

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.

Ideas come in pairs and they contradict one another; their opposition is the principal engine of reflection.

There is no book of mine that I reject. That does not mean that I find them good.

In Les Mots I explain the origin of my madness, of my neurosis. This analysis may help the young who dream of writing.

I am neither virgin nor priest enough to play with the inner life.