I'd come to realize that all our troubles spring from our failure to use plain, clear-cut language.

Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories.

I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.

What do you want to do with the [Communist] Party? A racing stable? What good is it to sharpen a knife every day if you never useit for slicing? A party is never more than a means. There is only one objective: power.

At that time [1954], as a result of political events, I was deeply preoccupied by my relations with the Communist Party.

The past is the luxury of proprietors.

I hate victims who respect their executioners.