Before you come alive, life is nothing; it 's up to you to give it a meaning, and value is nothing else but the meaning that you choose.

Because we can imagine, we are free.

Is there really nothing, nothing left of me?

Man exists, turns up, appears on the scene and only afterwards, defines himself

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 exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.

I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in . . . but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted.