Because the Nazi venom worked its way even into our thoughts, every accurate thought was a conquest; because an all-powerful police sought to force us into silence every word became as precious as a declaration of principle; because we were persecuted, each of our gestures carried the weight of a commitment.

The form [of literature] matters little to me, classical or not.

What's done at night belongs to the night. In the daytime you don't talk about it.

Nothingness haunts Being.

I had been playing with matches and burned a small rug. I was in the process of covering up my crime when suddenly God saw me. I felt His gaze inside my head and on my hands....I flew into a rage against so crude an indiscretion, I blasphemed....He never looked at me again....I had the more difficulty getting rid of Him the Holy Ghost in that He had installed Himself at the back of my head....I collared the Holy Ghost in the cellar and threw Him out.

We cannot withdraw our cards from the game. Were we as silent and mute as stones, our very passivity would be an act.

If you begin by saying, 'Thou shalt not lie,' there is no longer any possibility of political action.