Everything has been figured out, except how to live.

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

We must act out passion before we can feel it.

As for me, I am mean: that means that I need the suffering of others to exist. A flame. A flame in their hearts. When I am all alone, I am extinguished.

A writer must refuse to allow himself to be transformed into an institution, even if it takes place in the most honorable form.

Smooth and smiling faces everywhere, but ruin in their eyes.

God is absence. God is the solitude of man.