The struggle to the top alone will make a human heart swell.

The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

There is scarcely any passion without struggle.

But the heart has its own memory and I have forgotten nothing.

I would like to be able to breathe— to be able to love her by memory or fidelity. But my heart aches. I love you continuously, intensely.

In order to speak about all and to all, one has to speak of what all know and of the reality common to us all. The sea, rains, necessity, desire, the struggle against death... these are things that unite us all.