There is no forgiveness in nature.

The spontaneity of slaps is sincerity, whereas the ceremonial of caresses is largely convention.

We play make believe, pretend to take ourselves and each other seriously--to love each other, hate each other--but then--it isn't true. It isn't true, we don't care at all!

A long association-prolonged human contact, when a man and woman live together-this ends up producing a sort of rot, a poison.

There is always a certain peace in being what one is, in being that completely.

We cannot bear to regard ourselves simply as playthings of blind chance, we cannot admit to feeling ourselves abandoned.

Every tiny part of us cries out against the idea of dying, and hopes to live forever.