Author of quotes: Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt. Page 2

I suffer. The ice sword pierced my chest to the insides, I bleed and no one sees it? No one noticed, what sorrow humble me? Am I alone on this earth, feel everything so acutely? Yes, in the same world we live in?

The mistake with Hitler, is because his are exceptional, exceptional beast, the incomparable Barbara. Meanwhile, he is a man of trivial. Banal as evil. Banal, like you and me. This could be you, it could be me. And how to know whether we could find ourselves tomorrow, you or me? Who can consider himself secure? Protected from the false judgment, from simplification, from obstinacy or from the evil caused in the name of what is considered good?

Our past weighs on us as much as we let him; thinking, working, we can ease the burden.

They could be friends but no more friends; companions, because partnership is a coexistence of the overall situation; not friends, because friends love each other because they are different, and not common.

The dealer on the phone was known for his habit to fall asleep instantly anywhere and anytime. Went to a legend that he even managed to disconnect in the middle of a difficult conversation with the tax inspector.

- Where is he?
- A village in Normandy. There make butter, cheese, and saints. I, therefore, there was nothing to do.

Malice in its purest form does not exist. Everyone is convinced that it makes good. The devil always thinks himself an angel.

That may be selfish baby? He reaches out, grabs, grabastaet and pulls everything in his mouth. In the first days of life - the foolish beast, not knowing that there are other people. We all started tyrants. Life has tamed us, discouraging us.

The person making the choice and circumstances. No one has power over circumstances, but over their choice of government by each.

shame ... like the picture frame - it sets off the defect.

These women did nothing, they are not asking for anything, they just obey. No matter what happens, they're always the victim.

Speed freed her from her grief, drove her to the main point: to feel alive, intensely alive, because in two hundred on the counter death watching you from every gutter.

Our thought does not stop on what we see and what we say. We have secret corridors behind the walls, hidden closets, secret compartments, where we often hide our criticisms, ambitions, fears. All goes well until then, until the bulkhead will not crack, something will come out, won't spill. That's when you need to prepare for the worst.

He does not chide her for what she is sleeping around, he condemned it for a reason. He did not judge her for her immorality or lust, no, the number of its men was not important to him; he was interested in why so many of them were. About the ease with which Annie was given, he said, "Why not?" - but immediately added: "But why?"