Man is condemned to be free. Condemned because he did not create himself, yet is nevertheless at liberty, and from the moment he is thrown into this world he is responsible for everything he does.

It answers the question that was tormenting you: my love, you are not 'one thing in my life' - not even the most important - because my life no longer belongs to me because...you are always me.

I go out. Why? Well,because I have no reason not to go out either.

God is absence. God is the solitude of man.

She is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile, like the odour of violets given off by a decomposing body.

I love you enormously. I'm spending a little time away from you—quite absurd and contingent. I would so like to see you, my stubborn little thing, and tell you my stories and hold your hand. You are my love, you good little being. Far from you I measure the nothingness of the flesh, and I am not having much fun.

People are like dice. We throw ourselves in the direction of our own choosing.