The end of their passion consists of loving uselessly at the moment when it is pointless.
I hadn't understood how days could be both long and short at the same time: long to live through, maybe, but so drawn out that they ended up flowing into one another. They lost their names. Only 'yesterday' and 'tomorrow' still had any meaning for me.
For who would dare to assert that eternal happiness can compensate for a single moment's human suffering
Big tears of frustration and exhaustion were streaming down his cheeks. But because of all the wrinkles, they weren't dripping off. They spread out and ran together again, leaving a watery film over his ruined face.
[Paris] is dirty. It has pigeons and black yards. The people have white skin.
After all, I do not have so many ways of proving that I am free. We is always free at the expense of someone else. It is a bother,but it is normal.
We are not certain, we are never certain.
At one time or another all normal people have wished their loved ones were dead.
The soul of a murderer is blind
...there was only one thing that interested her and that was getting into bed with men whenever she'd the chance. And I warned her straight. 'You'll be sorry one day, my girl, and wish you'd got me back'.
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