What is an adult? A child blown up by age.

The body is the instrument of our hold on the world.

Sign of old age: distress at all leave-takings, all separations. And the sadness of memories, because I'm aware they're condemned to death.

The father's life is surrounded by mysterious prestige: the hours he spends in the home, the room where he works, the objects around him, his occupations, his habits, have a sacred character. It is he who feeds the family, is the one in charge and the head. Usually he works outside the home, and it is through him that the household communicates with the rest of the world: he is the embodiment of this adventurous, immense, difficult, and marvelous world; he is transcendence, he is God.

A couple who go on living together merely because that was how they began, without any other reason: was that what we were turning into?

One is not born a genius, one becomes a genius; and the feminine situation has up to the present rendered this becoming practically impossible.

People seem to think that if you keep your head empty you automatically fill your balls.