Like all dreamers, I mistook disenchantment for truth.
In life man commits himself and draws his own portrait, outside of which there is nothing. No doubt this thought may seem harsh to someone who has not made a success of his life. But on the other hand, it helps people to understand that reality alone counts, and that dreams, expectations and hopes only serve to define a man as a broken dream, aborted hopes, and futile expectations.
God is dead. Let us not understand by this that he does not exist or even that he no longer exists. He is dead. He spoke to us and is silent. We no longer have anything but his cadaver. Perhaps he slipped out of the world, somewhere else like the soul of a dead man. Perhaps he was only a dream...God is dead.
In Les Mots I explain the origin of my madness, of my neurosis. This analysis may help the young who dream of writing.
The lad who dreams of being a boxing champion or an admiral chooses reality. If the writer chooses the imaginary, he confuses the two.
From the period when I wrote La Nausea I wanted to create a morality. My evolution consists in my no longer dreaming of doing so.
The revolution you dream of is not ours. You don't want to change the world; you want to blow it up.
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