Din clipa în care libertatea a făcut explozie în sufletul unui om, zeii nu mai pot face nimic împotriva lui. Asta-i o treabă omenească, şi numai ceil… - Jean-Paul Sartre

The idea is still there, unnameable. It waits, peacefully. Now it seems to say: “Yes? Is that what you wanted? Well, that’s exactly what you’ve never had (remember you fooled yourself with words, you called the glitter of travel, the love of women, quarrels, and trinkets adventure) and this is what you’ll never have — and no one other than yourself.” But Why? WHY?

Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it any more. My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them.

من می‌دانم که خوبی دشوارتر از بدی است. بدی فقط وابسته به من بود، درصورتی‌که خوبی وابسته به همه است.