At times discreetly, at times disgustingly, I yielded to the most fatal temptation whenever I could no longer bear it: as a result of impatience, Orpheus lost Eurydice; as a result of impatience, I lost myself.

Words are more treacherous and powerful than we think.

I construct my memories with my present. I am lost, abandoned in the present. I try in vain to rejoin the past: I cannot escape.

When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die.

Everything has been figured out, except how to live.

Existence is not something which lets itself be thought of form a distance; it must invade you suddenly, master you, weigh heavily on your heart like a great motionless beast - or else there is nothing at all.

I think of death only with tranquility, as an end. I refuse to let death hamper life. Death must enter life only to define it.