To Two Men Living The

We Don't Have The Time To Completely Be Ourselves. We Only Have The Room To Be Happy.

There Is A Solitude In Poverty, But A Solitude Which Restores To Each Thing Its Value.

If Man Is Reduced To Being Nothing But A Character In History, He Has No Other Choice But To Subside Into The Sound And Fury Of Acompletely Irrational History Or To Endow History With The Form Of Human Reason.

History Only Exists, In The Final Analysis, For God.

In Default Of Inexhaustible Happiness, Eternal Suffering Would At Least Give Us A Destiny. But We Do Not Even Have That Consolation, And Our Worst Agonies Come To An End One Day.