Freedom is existence, and in it existence precedes essence.
But I must finally realize that I am subject to these sudden transformations. The thing is that I rarely think; a crowd of small metamorphoses accumulate in me without my noticing it, and then, one fine day, a veritable revolution takes place.
I have always been an optimist, perhaps even too much.
When rich people fight wars with one another, poor people are the ones to die.
Hell is other people at breakfast.
How can I, who was not able to retain my own past, hope to save that of another?