That's love, giving everything, sacrificing all without hope of return.
Happiness is generous. It does not subsist on destruction.
The act of love is a confession.
Fancy language, like poplin, too often conceals an eczema.
There are people who prefer to look their fate in the eye
The urge to revolt is one of the essential dimensions of human nature.
I know that man is capable of great deeds. But if he isn't capable of great emotion, well, he leaves me cold.
To govern means to pillage, as everyone knows.
A man without ethics is a wild beast loosed upon this world.
This world, such as it is, is not tolerable. Therefore I need the moon, or happiness, or immortality, I need something which is perhaps demented, but which is not of this world.
Perhaps we cannot prevent this world from being a world in which children are tortured. But we can reduce the number of tortured children.
I see many people die because they judge that life is not worth living. I see others paradoxically getting killed for the ideas or illusions that give them a reason for living (what is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying). I therefore conclude that the meaning of life is the most urgent of questions.
Who taught you all this, doctor?" The reply came promptly: "Suffering.
I had the whole sky in my eyes and it was blue and gold.
Love cannot accept what it is. Everywhere on earth it cries out against kindness, compassion, intelligence, everything that leads to compromise. Love demands the impossible, the absolute, the sky on fire, inexhaustible springtime, life after death, and death itself transfigured into eternal life.
But it's not easy. I've been thinking it over for years. While we loved each other we didn't need words to make ourselves understood. But people don't love forever. A time came when I should have found the words to keep her with me, only I couldn't.
Whatever prevents you from doing your work has become your work.
Charm is a way of getting the answer 'Yes' without asking a clear question.
There was a time when I didn’t at any minute have the slightest idea how I could reach the next one. Yes, one can wage war in this world, ape love, torture one’s fellow man, or merely say evil of one’s neighbour while knitting. But, in certain cases, carrying on, merely continuing, is superhuman.
If those whom we begin to love could know us as we were before meeting them they could perceive what they have made of us.
For the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and that I was happy still.
He had opened his heart to the sublime indifference of the universe
It is better to burn than to disappear.
What can a meaning outside my condition mean to me? I can understand only in human terms. What I touch, what resists me - that I understand. And these two certainties - my appetite for the absolute and for unity and the impossibility of reducing this world to a rational and reasonable principle - I also know that I cannot reconcile them. What other truth can I admit without lying, without bringing in a hope I lack and which means nothing within the limits of my conditions?
Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.
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