Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day.

We belong to this earth. Now I can see the truth ... I love you on this earth of ours. Love me, do!

Be loved, be admired, be necessary; be somebody.

He reflected. 'I know a lot of different kids of people; what I want is to show each of them how the others really are. You hear so many lies!

I cannot be angry at God, in whom I do not believe.

There is only one good. And that is to act according to the dictates of one's conscience.

Sometimes speech is no more than a device for saying nothing - and a neater one than silence.