« Oddly enough, my authentic friends were not among the first in class, nor among the docile, but among the last, the unruly, those who sneer "all behind", those who know how to be cruel. Those of the same people showed me a tenderness, an innocence, a love that I never found anywhere else. The way they helped me, the way they came into contact with me, was a form of nudity. It was not the pity of the old women who gave me a hundred cents (which I did not always dislike), nor the ostentatious altruism of the son to Dad who demonstrates his good education, his know-how to live. The cockroach's friendship was clumsy, discreet, sincere. He confided in me and I dared to turn myself in to him »

« "It's not complicated." A friend of mine has a habit of repeating this phrase that soothes me and teaches me for a long time. I see him serene in the midst of the greatest mess, in a thousand difficulties, always calm and peaceful. "It's not complicated": this expression is not an invitation to resignation, to give up. On the contrary, this friend so serene is always in the real, to take action to get better. I certainly find a new asceticism. Don't complicate things. Don't add anything when the difficulties arise. Without denying them, it is a question of returning to reality, of seeing that the imaginary, like a horse, gets carried away and makes the situation worse. »

« If this book could in turn hatch a few vocations, invite the reader to enter into himself and discover his deep aspirations and his true quest, it would contribute joyfully to make sense of the sometimes painful episodes that mark this modest dialogue, a small manual of progressing that guides joy. »