« Where does it come from that we elect certain words? That there are kind or detestable in our eyes when others say nothing to us, and that there are some so heavy that it seems urgent to deliver them? »

« What did I know about her? What did she know about me? Almost nothing. Would my very old mother, who has become so far from the world, have got my friends to "stop living" so that she and I finally have something to share: loneliness, loneliness that is not shared? »

« Master Charles Vignon masters his files, he masters the language - his colleagues envy his eloquence - he works to master himself. Everything's under control. And now, at night, nothing goes wrong. The impeccable logic of the arguments derails. What seemed so solid falters, the measure gives way to excess, is the turmoil. Sea in fury, storms, earth trembles, the ground slips away, cracks, fractures. And he's doomed to walk without knowing where his steps lead him. His wristwatch is stopped. He is a lost, lost child, who continues to walk, over and over again, so as not to collapse. »