Everything has been figured out, except how to live.
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Hell is other people.
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If a victory is told in detail, one can no longer distinguish it from a defeat.
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Then we are assured by Sartre that owing to the final disappearance of God our liberty is absolute! At this the entire audience waves its hat or claps its hands. But this natural enthusiasm is turned abruptly into something much less buoyant when it is learnt that this liberty weighs us down immediately with tremendous responsibilities. We now have to take all God's worries on our shoulders --now that we are become men like gods. It is at this point that the Anxiety and Despondency begin, ending in utter despair.
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Words are loaded pistols.
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The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
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A writer must refuse to allow himself to be transformed into an institution.
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Man is a useless passion.
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One does not adopt a new idea, one slips into it.
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Man is not the sum of what he has already, but rather the sum of what he does not yet have, of what he could have.
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Existence precedes and rules essence.
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Generosity is nothing else than a craze to possess. All which I abandon, all which I give, I enjoy in a higher manner through the fact that I give it away. To give is to enjoy possessively the object which one gives.
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I am responsible for everything except for my very responsibility, for I am not the foundation of my being. Therefore everything takes place as if I were compelled to be responsible. I am abandoned in the world... in the sense that I find myself suddenly alone and without help, engaged in a world for which I bear the whole responsibility without being able, whatever I do, to tear myself away from this responsibility for an instant.
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Everything has been figured out except how to live.
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I am condemned to freedom. I am not free because I can make choices, but because I must make them, all the time, even when I think I have no choice to make.
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There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.
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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. HELL IS--OTHER PEOPLE!
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One always dies too soon—or too late. And yet, life is there, finished: the line is drawn, and it must all be added up. You are nothing othe...
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God is the solitude of men. There was only me: I alone decided to commit Evil; alone, I invented Good. I am the one who cheated, I am the one ...
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The poor don't know that their function in life is to exercise our generosity
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That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget
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It is the same thing: killing, dying, it is the same thing: one is just as alone in each. He is luck, he will only die once. As for me, for te...
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If we must absolutely mention this state of affairs, I suggest that we call ourselves 'absent', that is more proper.
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If you are lonely when you are alone, you are in bad company.
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In love, one and one are one.
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Better to have beasts that let themselves be killed than men who run away.
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One is still what one is going to cease to be and already what one is going to become. One lives one's death, one dies one's life.
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Yes, I am so free. And what a superb absence is my soul.
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A man who is free is like a mangy sheep in a herd. He will contaminate my entire kingdom and ruin my work.
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Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do.
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