The rebel can never find peace. He knows what is good and, despite him >>
The real passion of the twentieth century is servitude. >>
We all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes, and our ravage >>
Remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most usel >>
The beauty myth moves for men as a mirage; its power lies in its ever- >>
The ideal beauty is a fugitive which is never found. >>
At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman, and these hills, the softness of the sky, the outline of these trees at this very minute lose the illusory meaning with which we had clothed them, henceforth more remote than a lost paradise... that denseness and that strangeness of the world is absurd.