Time is too large, it can't be filled up. Everything you plunge into it is stretched and disintegrates.
Something is beginning in order to end: adventure does not let itself be drawn out; it only makes sense when dead. I am drawn, irrevocably, towards this death which is perhaps mine as well. Each insta...
So this is hell. I'd never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the burning marl. Old wives' tales! There's no need for red-hot pokers. H...
She smiled and said with an ecstatic air: It shines like a little diamond,What does?This moment. It is round, it hangs in empty space like a little diamond; I am eternal.
Man is what he wills himself to be.
Lucien thought with bitter pleasure that his parents found him looking fine. I don’t exist. He closed his eyes and let himself drift: existence is an illusion because I know I don t exist, all I have...
Je ne suis rien que le regard qui te voit, que cette pensée incolore qui te pense.
Je ne suis ni le maître ni l'esclave, Jupiter. Je suis ma liberté! À peine m'as-tu créé que j'ai cessé de t'appartenir
Je n'ai pas rêvé cet héroïsme. Je l'ai choisi. On est ce qu'on veut.
J'ai envie de partir, de m'en aller quelque part où je serais vraiment à ma place, où je m'emboîterais... Mais ma place n'est nulle part; je suis de trop.
It's just what people do when they're getting old, when they're sick of themselves and their life; they think of money and take care of themselves.
I've lived the life of a man without teeth, he thought about it. A life of a man without teeth. I've never bitten, I've been waiting, keeping myself for later - and now I've just ascertained that I do...
I'm going to leave, I'm going to take my train. But behind the existence which falls from one present to the other, without a past, without a future, behind these sounds which decompose from day to da...
I shall never sleep again. Butthen—how shall I endure my own company?
I had spent my time counterfeiting eternity, I had understood nothing.
How come he cannot recognize his own cruelty now turned against him? How come he can't see his own savagery as a colonist in the savagery of these oppressed peasants who have absorbed it through every...
Existentialism is no mournful delectation but a humanist philosophy of action, effort, combat, and solidarity. Man must create his own essence: it is in throwing himself into the world, suffering ther...
After all, she is lucky. I have been much too calm these past three years. I can receive nothing more from these tragic solitudes than a little empty purity. I leave.
A real panic took hold of me. I didn't know where I was going. I ran along the docks, turned into the deserted streets in the Beauvoisis district; the houses watched my flight with their mournful eyes...
The writer is committed when he plunges to the very depths of himself with the intent to disclose not his individuality but his person in the complex society that conditions and supports him.