One loves ultimately one’s desires, not the thing desired.
If we truly wanted to be happy, we would not be so eager to sacrifice happiness for jealousy, anger or fear.
to fight for each minute is to fight for what is possible within yourself, so that your life and your death will not be like theirs
When the imagination sleeps, words are emptied of their meaning: a deaf population absent-mindedly registers the condemnation of a man. But if people are shown the machine, made to touch the wood and steel and to hear the sound of a head falling, then public imagination, suddenly awakened, will repudiate both the vocabulary and the penalty.
The sky is clouding over. And here now my old anguish; there, in the depth of my body, like a nasty wound that each movement irritates. I know its name. It is fear of the eternal solitude, apprehension that there won’t be any answer.
He cannot grow old, for he has never been young; he cannot become young, for he has already grown old; in a sense he cannot die, for indeed he has not lived; in a sense he cannot live, for indeed he is already dead.