Everything that exists is born for no reason, carries on living through weakness, and dies by accident

It is enough that one man hate another for hate to gain, little by little, all mankind.

In the state I was in, if someone had come and told me I could go home quietly, that they would leave me my life whole, it would have left me cold: several hours or several years of waiting is all the same when you have lost the illusion of being eternal.

Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough.

There are two ways of destroying a people. Either condemn them en bloc or force them to repudiate the leaders they adopted. The second is the worse.

I admire [Samuel] Beckett, but I am totally against him. He seeks no improvement.

Perhaps its inevitable, perhaps one has to choose between being nothing at all and impersonating what one is.