Objects should not touch because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being in contact with them as though they were living beasts.

Jean-Paul Sartre

Mots clés nausea



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If I were in their place, I’d fall over myself.

Jean-Paul Sartre

Mots clés nausea



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I am neither virgin nor priest enough to play with the inner life.

Jean-Paul Sartre


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I'd come to realize that all our troubles spring from our failure to use plain, clear-cut language.

Jean-Paul Sartre

Mots clés language existential the-plague jean-paul-sartre



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My thought is me: that's why I can't stop. I exist because I think… and I can't stop myself from thinking. At this very moment - it's frightful - if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire.

Jean-Paul Sartre


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People who live in society have learned to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. Is that why my flesh is naked? You might say - yes you might say, nature without humanity… Things are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea.

Jean-Paul Sartre


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The plight of modern man is that he is condemmed to be free.

Jean-Paul Sartre


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He is always becoming, and if it were not for the contingency of death, he would never end.

Jean-Paul Sartre


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She suffers as a miser. She must be miserly with her pleasures, as well. I wonder if sometimes she doesn't wish she were free of this monotonous sorrow, of these mutterings which start as soon as she stops singing, if she doesn't wish to suffer once and for all, to drown herself in despair. In any case, it would be impossible for her: she is bound.

Jean-Paul Sartre


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The sun is not ridiculous, quite the contrary. On everything I like, on the rust of the construction girders, on the rotten boards of the fence, a miserly, uncertain light falls, like the look you give, after a sleepless night, on decisions made with enthusiasm the day before, on pages you have written in one spurt without crossing out a word.

Jean-Paul Sartre


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