A lost battle is a battle one thinks one has lost.

With despair, true optimism begins: the optimism of the man who expects nothing, who knows he has no rights and nothing coming to him, who rejoices in counting on himself alone and in acting alone for the good of all.

I am not asking for sensational revelations, but I would like to sense the meaning of that minute, to feel it's urgency.

From the period when I wrote La Nausea I wanted to create a morality. My evolution consists in my no longer dreaming of doing so.

My pessimism has never been flabby.

This is the basis for the joy of love when there is joy; we feel that our existence is justified.

There it is: I am gently slipping into the water's depths, towards fear.