What men have in common is not a nature but a condition, that is, an ensemble of limits and restrictions: the inevitability of death, the necessity of working for a living, of living in a world alread...
What a torment it is not to be rich! It gets one into such abject situations.
Tuesday: Nothing. Existed.
Thing are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea.
The only difference between image and idea is thus that in the one case, the expression of the object is confused, and in the other, it is clear. The confusion comes from this: every movement envelops...
The idea is still there, unnameable. It waits, peacefully. Now it seems to say: Yes? Is that what you wanted? Well, that’s exactly what you’ve never had (remember you fooled yourself with words, you c...
The Nausea has not left me and I don't believe it will leave me so soon; but I no longer have to bear it, it is no longer an illness or a passing fit: it is I.
THE HOLE The hole is something which longs to be filled. The small child is drawn as if by magic to holes. He can not restrain himself from putting in his finger or his whole arm. He makes a symbolic...
She is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile, like the odour of violets given off by a decomposing body.
Peut-on juger une vie sur un seul acte ?
Outside nature, against nature, without excuse, beyond remedy, except what remedy I find within myself.
On meurt toujours trop tôt ou trop tard. Et cependant la vie est là, terminée: le trait est tiré, il faut faire la somme. Tu n'es rien d'autre que ta vie.
Objects should not touch because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being...
Never were we freer than under the German Occupation.
Love was not something to be felt, not a particular emotion, nor yet a particular shade of feeling, it was much more like a lowering curse on the horizon, a precursor of disaster.
Life is a useless passion.
Let it crumble! Let the rocks revile me and flowers wilt at my coming. Your whole universe is not enough to prove me wrong. You are the king of gods, king of stones and stars, king of the waves of the...
Le bronze... (Il le caresse.) Eh bien, voici le moment. Le bronze est là, je le contemple et je comprends que je suis en enfer. Je vous dis que tout était prévu. Ils avaient prévu que je me tiendrais...
L'enfer, c'est les autres [Hell is other people]
I’ve dropped out of their hearts like a little sparrow fallen from its nest. So gather me up, dear, fold me to your heart – and you’ll see how nice I can be.