C'est ça le temps, le temps tout nu, ça vient lentement à l'existence, ça se fait attendre et quand ça vient, on est écoeuré parce qu'on s'aperçoit que c'était déjà là depuis longtemps.
But a little while ago I made an experiment with the absolute or the absurd. This root—there was nothing in relation to which it was absurd. Oh, how can I put it in words? Absurd: in relation to the s...
Attends. Laisse-moi dire adieu à cette légèreté sans tache qui fut la mienne. Laisse-moi dire adieu à ma jeunesse. Il y a des soirs, des soirs de Corinthe ou d'Athènes, pleins de chants et d'odeurs qu...
As for me, I am mean: that means that I need the suffering of others to exist. A flame. A flame in their hearts. When I am all alone, I am extinguished.
A pale reflection of myself wavers in my consciousness...and suddenly the I pales, pales, and fades out.
A little more and I would have fallen into the mirror trap. I avoided it, but only to fall into the window trap: with nothing to do, my arms dangling, I go over to the window.
They dam up the future. As long as you stay between these walls, whatever happens must happen to the right or the left of the stove...Thus these objects serve at least to fix the limits of probability...
Nothing that exists can be comic; it was like a floating analogy, almost entirely elusive, with certain aspects of vaudeville.
You see, I'm fond of teasing, it'sa second nature with me—and I'm used to teasing myself. Plaguing myself, if you prefer; I don't tease nicely.
Where shall I keep mine? You don’t put your past in your pocket; you have to have a house. I have only my body: a man entirely alone, with his lonely body, cannot indulge in memories; they pass throug...
When I was little, my Aunt Bigeois told me If you look at yourself too long in the mirror, you'll see a monkey. I must have looked at myself even longer than that: what I see is well below the monkey,...
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...
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 is not inside me: I feel it out there in the wall, in the suspenders, everywhere around me. It makes itself one with the café, I am the one who is within it.
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...
Peut-on juger une vie sur un seul acte ?
Outside nature, against nature, without excuse, beyond remedy, except what remedy I find within myself.
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.
Most of the time, because of their failure to fasten on to words, my thoughts remain misty and nebulous. They assume vague, amusing shapes and are then swallowed up: I promptly forget them.