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

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

Murderers, in general, are people who are consistent, people who are obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

This free will business is a bit terrifying anyway. It's almost pleasanter to obey, and make the most of it.

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

It's perfectly obvious that somebody's responsible and somebody's innocent. Otherwise it [justice] makes no sense at all.

Sisterly love is, of all sentiments, the most abstract. Nature does not grant it any functions.