Men Must Live And Create.

What, Then, Is That Incalculable Feeling That Deprives The Mind Of The Sleep Necessary To Life? A World That Can Be Explained Even With Bad Reasons Is A Familiar World. But, On The Other Hand, In A Universe Suddenly Divested Of Illusions And Lights, Man Feels An Alien, A Stranger. His Exile Is Without Remedy Since He Is Deprived Of The Memory Of A Lost Home Or The Hope Of A Promised Land. This Divorce Between Man And His Life, The Actor And His Setting, Is Properly The Feeling Of Absurdity.

The Soul Of A Murderer Is Blind

It's Not Your Pictures I Like; It's Your Painting.

There's The Risk Of Being Loved...and That Would Keep Me From Being Happy.

There Are Always Reasons For Murdering A Man. But There Is No Justification For His Existence.