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...and without love, one is a dead man on furlough, nothing but a scrap of paper with a few dates and a chance name on it, and we as well die.

"

Actually, what does man live for?” “To think about it. Any other question?” “Yes. Why does he die just when he has done that and has become a bit more...more

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My healthy blood was powerless to cure the sick blood of my beloved. That was beyond understanding. And so is death.

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our heads were full of nebulous ideas, which cast an idealized, almost romantic glow over life

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Our knowledge of life is limited to death

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We were never very demonstrative in our family; poor folk who toil and are full of cares are not so. It is not their way to protest what they already ...more

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The tension has worn us out. It is a deadly tension that feels as if a jagged knife blade is being scraped along the spine. Our legs won't function, o...more

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Love should not be polluted with friendship.

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Sweet words. Gentle deceptive balm. Help, love, to belong together, to come back again— words, sweet words. Nothing but words. How many words existed ...more

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There is no guilt in feelings ever.

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The best way to lose a woman was to show her a kind of life that one could offer her for only a few days.

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Actually, what does man live for?”“To think about it. Any other question?” “Yes. Why does he die just when he has done that and has become a bit more ...more

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One lost easiest what one held in one’s arms— never what one left.

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He looked around. The room, a few suitcases, some belongings, a handful of well-read books— a man needed few things to live. And it was good not to ge...more

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A neat little apartment with a neat little bourgeois life. A neat little security on the edge of the abyss. Do you really see that?