Evil is the product of the ability of humans to make abstract that which is concrete.

For forty years I was conscripted by the absolute, the neurosis. The absolute is gone. There remain countless tasks among which literature is in no way privileged.

Things are entirely what they appear to be and behind them... there is nothing.

The real nature of the present revealed itself: it was what exists, all that was not present did not exist.

Freedom is existence, and in it existence precedes essence.

To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June

For the moment, the jazz is playing; there is no melody, just notes, a myriad tiny tremors. The notes know no rest, an inflexibleorder gives birth to them then destroys them, without ever leaving them the chance to recuperate and exist for themselves.... I would like to hole them back, but I know that, if I succeeded in stooping one, there would only remain in may hand a corrupt and languishing sound. I must accept their death; I must even want that death: I know of few more bitter or intense impressions.