For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.
Why should it be essential to love rarely in order to love much?
Martyrs, my friend, have to choose between being forgotten, mocked or used. As for being understood - never.
The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.
Those who write clearly have readers, those who write obscurely have commentators.
