“Your life was a hypothesis. Those who die old are made of the past. Thinking of them, one thinks of what they have done. Thinking of you, one thinks of what you could have become. You were, and you will… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“Far from your home, you used to taste the pleasure of being mad without being alienated, of being an imbecile without renouncing your intelligence,… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“You used to believe that with age you would become less unhappy, because you then would have reasons to be sad. When you were… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“To love someone from the moment of his death: is that friendship? I” — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“Your life was a hypothesis. Those who die old are made of the past. Thinking of them, one thinks of what they have done.… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“When you are spoken of, it begins with recounting your death, before going back to explain it. Isn’t it peculiar how this final gesture… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“A ruin is an accidental aesthetic object. If it becomes beautiful, this was certainly not the intention. A ruin is not constructed or maintained.… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“All that would be needed to renew the bond would be a telephone call, but none of us are willing to risk the disillusionment… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“You don’t make me sad, but solemn. You impair my incurable frivolity.” — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
“You are that black but intense glow, which, since the dying of your light, freshly illuminates the day that had become obscure to them.… — Edouard Levé Copy Share Image
