“Little flashes of sun on the surface of a cold, dark sea.”

In football everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team.

One always dies too soon – or too late. And yet one’s whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are — your life, and nothing else.

Every word has consequences. Every silence, too.

There is only one day left, always starting over: It is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.

That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget.

Life is a useless passion.

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.

I can receive nothing more from these tragic solitudes than a little empty purity.

Consciousness is a being the nature of which is to be conscious of the nothingness of its being.

If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company.

Life begins on the other side of despair.

I wanted my own words. But the ones I use have been dragged through I don’t know how many consciences.

I found the human heart empty and insipid everywhere except in books.

Nothingness haunts Being.

We only become what we are by the radical and deep-seated refusal of that which others have made of us.

We do not know what we want and yet we are responsible for what we are – that is the fact.

The hottest love has the coldest end.

The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day.

Seasons change and our love went cold.

We’ll walk this road together, through the storm. Whatever weather, cold or warm.

Damn, cold world. I never thought I’d see the day that you’re my old girl.

Sometimes we choose to be cold, to act cold.

Take long walks in stormy weather or through deep snows in the fields and woods, if you would keep your spirits up. Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary.

Pride costs us more than hunger, thirst and cold.