“The face of the dead man was concealed, of course, our customs not being those of the south, where corpses are carried to the grave in open coffins, that they might – one last time before slipping into the pit – be warmed by the light of the sun.”

“Corpses sour you. They are bad for objectivity.”

“How talented was death. How many expressions and manipulations of hand, face, body, no two alike.”

“God wasn’t love, couldn’t be love. Because for me, love was a corpse.”

“Know that it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!…Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again!…Oh, mad Christine, who wanted to see me!”