Existence Is An Imperfection.

In A Word, Man Must Create His Own Essence: It Is In Throwing Himself Into The World, Suffering There, Struggling There, That He Gradually Defines Himself.

I Think [alain Robbe-grillet] A Good Writer, But He Speaks To The Comfortable Bourgeoisie.

I Can Receive Nothing More From These Tragic Solitudes Than A Little Empty Purity.

Politics Is A Science. You Can Demonstrate That You Are Right And That Others Are Wrong.

It Is No Longer Possible To Escape Men. Farewell To The Monsters, Farewell To The Saints. Farewell To Pride. All That Is Left Is Men.