I open the door of the cell and go. I am so bowed I only see my feet, if I open my eyes, and between my legs a little trail of black dust. I say to myself that the earth is extinguished, though I never saw it lit.

Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.

I love order. It's my dream. A world where all would be silent and still, and each thing in its last place, under the last dust.

Love requited is a short circuit.

The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. Let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors. Let us not speak well of it either. Let us not speak of it at all. It is true the population has increased.

Fail, fail again, fail better.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.