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What am I? A little dust bound together by an organism. What am I to do on this earth? I have the choice: to suffer, or to enjoy myself. Where will suffering get me? To non-existence. But I shall have suffered. Where will enjoyment get me? To non-existence. But I shall have enjoyed myself. My choice is made.
No one could have said what was going on inside him, not even he himself.
for he knew how to do a little of everything, badly.
The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that you are loved, loved for yourself, better still, loved despite yourself.
Winter: no warmth, no light, no middle of the day, evening following on morning, fog, twilight, the window grey, the light so bad you cannot see. The sky is a basement window, the whole day a cellar. The sun looks like a pauper. What a dreadful time of year! Winter turns to stone both the rain from heaven and the heart of man.
Curiosity is a form of gluttony. To see is to devour.
