No One Can Enjoy Freedom Without Trembling.

As The Years Pass, The Number Of Those We Can Communicate With Diminishes. When There Is No Longer Anyone To Talk To, At Last We Will Be As We Were Before Stooping To A Name.

We Are All Deep In A Hell Each Moment Of Which Is A Miracle.

What Would Be Left Of Our Tragedies If An Insect Were To Present Us His?

To Have Committed Every Crime But That Of Being A Father.

You Cannot Protect Your Solitude If You Cannot Make Yourself Odious.