No Exit

Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough.

As for me, I am mean: that means that I need the suffering of others to exist. A flame. A flame in their hearts. When I am all alone, I am extinguished.

Hell is—other people!

Human feeling. That's beyond my range. I'm rotten to the core

I'm going to smile, and my smile will sink down into your pupils, and heaven knows what it will become.

I never could bear the idea of anyone's expecting something from me. It
always made me want to do just the opposite.

INEZ: Prove it. Prove it was no dream. It’s what one does, and nothing else, that shows the stuff one's made of.

GARCIN: I died too soon. I wasn't allowed time to - to do my deeds.

INEZ: One always dies too soon - or too late. And yet one's whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are - your life, and nothing else.

INEZ: To forget about the others? How utterly absurd! I feel you there, in every pore.Your silence clamours in my ears. You can nail up your mouth, cut your tongue out - but you can't prevent your being there. Can you stop your thoughts? I hear them ticking away like a clock, tick-tock, tick-tock, and I'm certain you hear mine. It's all very well skulking on your sofa, but you're everywhere, and every sound comes to me soiled because you've intercepted it on its way. Why, you've even stolen my face; you know it and I don't ! And what about her, about Estelle? You've stolen her from me, too; if she and I were alone do you suppose she'd treat me as she does? No, take your hands from your face, I won't leave you in peace - that would suit your book too well. You'd go on sitting there, in a sort of trance, like a yogi, and even if I didn't see her I'd feel it in my bones - that she was making every sound, even the rustle of her dress, for your benefit, throwing you smiles you didn't see... Well, I won't stand for that, I prefer to choose my hell; I prefer to look you in the eyes and fight it out face to face.

INEZ: What's the matter?

ESTELLE: I feel so queer. Don't you ever get taken that way? When I can't see myself I begin to wonder if I really and truly exist. I pat myself just to make sure, but it doesn't help much.

I think of death only with tranquility, as an end. I refuse to let death hamper life. Death must enter life only to define it.

Je n'ai pas rêvé cet héroïsme. Je l'ai choisi. On est ce qu'on veut.

Je ne peux plus rien d'autre. Je ne les entends plus, tu sais. C'est sans doute qu'ils en ont fini avec moi. Fini: l'affaire est classée, je ne suis plus rien sur terre, même plus un lâche. Inès, nous voilà seuls: il n'y a plus que vous deux pour penser à moi. Elle ne compte pas. Mais toi, toi qui me hais, si tu me crois, tu me sauves.

Je ne suis rien que le regard qui te voit, que cette pensée incolore qui te pense.

L'enfer, c'est les autres [Hell is other people]

Much more likely you’ll hurt me. Still what does it matter? If I’ve got to suffer, it may as well be at your hands, your pretty hands.

Oh, what a nuisance you are! I'm giving you my mouth, my arms, my whole body - and everything could be so simple...My trust! I haven't any to give, I'm afraid, and you're making me terribly embarrassed. You must have something pretty ghastly on your conscience to make such a fuss about my trusting you.

On meurt toujours trop tôt ? ou trop tard. Et cependant la vie est là, terminée: le trait est tiré, il faut faire la somme. Tu n'es rien d'autre que ta vie.

Peut-on juger une vie sur un seul acte ?

Remember you're not alone; you've no right to inflict the sight of your fear on me.

So it comes to this; one doesn’t need rest. Why bother about sleep if one isn’t sleepy? That stands to reason, doesn’t it? Wait a minute, there’s a snag somewhere; something disagreeable. Why, now, should it be disagreeable? …Ah, I see; it’s life without a break.

So this is hell. I'd never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the "burning marl." Old wives' tales! There's no need for red-hot pokers. Hell is—other people!

There were days when you peered into yourself, into the secret places of your heart, and what you saw there made you faint with horror. And then, next day, you didn't know what to make of it,you couldn't interpret the horror you had glimpsed the day before. Yes, you know what evil costs.

You are -- your life, and nothing else.

You're lucky. I'm always conscious of myself —in my mind. Painfully conscious.

Your scare me rather. My reflection in the glass never did that; of course, I knew it so well. Like something I had tamed...I'm going to smile, and my smile will sink down into your pupils, and heaven knows what it will become.