We fall in love when our imagination projects nonexistent perfection upon another person. One day, the fantasy evaporates and with it, love dies.

Civilization is nothing else but the attempt to reduce force to being the last resort.

The mass believes that it has the right to impose and to give force of law to notions born in the café.

Life is an operation which is done in a forward direction. One lives toward the future, because to live consists inexorably in doing, in each individual life making itself.

By speaking, by thinking, we undertake to clarify things, and that forces us to exacerbate them, dislocate them, schematize them. Every concept is in itself an exaggeration.

The hero's will is not that of his ancestors nor of his society, but his own. This will to be oneself is heroism.

We do not live to think, but, on the contrary, we think in order that we may succeed in surviving.