You see, the contemporary writer must write through his intimations of unease, while trying to elucidate them.

Being is. Being is in-itself. Being is what it is.

Heroism is not to be won at the point of a pen.

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

As long as the writer cannot write for the two billion men who are hungry, he will be oppressed by a feeling of malaise.

Man can will nothing unless he has first understood that he must count on no one but himself; that he is alone, abandoned on earth in the midst of his infinite responsibilities, without help, with no other aim than the one he sets himself, with no other destiny than the one he forges for himself on this earth.

I will not be modest. Humble, as much as you like, but not modest. Modesty is the virtue of the lukewarm.