There is no forgiveness in nature.

Everyone has, inside himself ... what shall I call it? A piece of good news! Everyone is ... a very great, very important character.

Nature is honest, we aren't; we embalm our dead.

If we have anything kind to say, any tender sentiment to express, we feel a sense of shame.

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

At any given moment, I open my eyes and exist. And before that, during all eternity, what was there? Nothing.

A vague uneasiness: the police. It's like when you suddenly understand you have to undress in front of the doctor.