Killing time is the chief end of our society.

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

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

Who cares about great marks left behind? We have one life... just one. Our life. We have nothing else.

We know well enough when we're being unjust and despicable. but we don't restrain ourselves because we experience a certain pleasure, a primitive sort of satisfaction in moments like that.

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

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