People who live in society have learnt how to see themselves, in mirrors, as they appear to their friends. I have no friends: is that why my flesh is so naked?
JEAN-PAUL SARTREEvery existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance.
More Jean-Paul Sartre Quotes
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The worst part about being lied to is knowing you weren’t worth the truth.
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I am a mere breath of air; a formless thought that thinks of you.
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I never could bear the idea of anyone’s expecting something from me. It always made me want to do the opposite.
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Three o’clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do.
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All that I know about my life, it seems, I have learned in books.
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Perhaps its inevitable, perhaps one has to choose between being nothing at all and impersonating what one is.
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A man is involved in life, leaves his impress on it, and outside of that there is nothing.
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There is no human nature, since there is no god to conceive it.
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The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
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We are our choices.
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Existence is an imperfection.
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In love, one and one are one.
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Words are loaded pistols.
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Man is not the sum of what he has already, but rather the sum of what he does not yet have, of what he could have.
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It’s strange. I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.
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It was odd, he thought, that a man could hate himself as though he were someone else.
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I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.
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Fear? If I have gained anything by damning myself, it is that I no longer have anything to fear.
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I wanted my own words. But the ones I use have been dragged through I don’t know how many consciences.
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Being is. Being is in-itself. Being is what it is.
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I confused things with their names: that is belief.
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I do not think, therefore I am a moustache.
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I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves.
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You’re lucky. I’m always conscious of myself —in my mind. Painfully conscious.
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You are — your life, and nothing else.
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Like all dreamers I confuse disenchantment with truth.
JEAN-PAUL SARTRE