This has always been a man's world, and none of the reasons that have been offered in explanation have seemed adequate.

A man would never get the notion of writing a book on the peculiar situation of the human male.

I take on a shape and an existence only if I first throw myself into the world by loving, by doing.

Society cares for the individual only so far as he is profitable.

Indeed, there is nothing more arbitrary than intervening as a stranger in a destiny which is not ours.

Today, however, we are having a hard time living because we are so bent on outwitting death.

I could see no reason for being sad. It´s just that it makes me unhappy not to feel happy.