You can lose your way groping among the shadows of the past.

Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn't get you anywhere.

People avenge themselves for the favors done them.

People don't deserve the restraint we show by not going into delirium in front of them.

In the whole of your absurd past you discover so much that's absurd, so much deceit and credulity, that it might be a good idea to stop being young this minute, to wait for youth to break away from you and pass you by, to watch it going away, receding in the distance, to see all its vanity, run your hand through the empty space it has left behind, take a last look at it, and then start moving, make sure your youth has really gone, and then calmly, all by yourself, cross to the other side of Time to see what people and things really look like.

The more one is hated, I find, the happier one is.

One can't relive one's life. Forgiveness is not what's difficult; one's always too ready to forgive. And it does no good, that's obvious.