When you wept it was just over yourself and not because of the marvelous impossibility of reaching her through the difference that separates you.

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

A book consists of two layers: on top, the readable layer ... and underneath, a layer that was inaccessible. You only sense its existence in a moment of distraction from the literal reading, the way you see childhood through a child. It would take forever to tell what you see, and it would be pointless.

Alcohol doesn't console, it doesn't fill up anyone's psychological gaps, all it replaces is the lack of God. It doesn't comfort man. On the contrary, it encourages him in his folly, it transports him to the supreme regions where he is master of his own destiny.

You alone became the outer surface of my life, the side I never see, and you will be that, the unknown part of me, until I die.

It's afterwards you realize that the feeling of happiness you had with a man didn't necessarily prove that you loved him.

When you wept it was just over yourself and not because of the marvelous impossibility of reaching her through the difference that separates you.