And when man faces destiny, destiny ends and man comes into his own.
The basic problem is that our civilization, which is a civilization of machines, can teach man everything except how to be a man.
Between eigtheen and twenty, life is like an exchange where one buys stocks, not with money, but with actions. Most men buy nothing.
What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets.
A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, nothing else.
All art is a revolt against man's fate.
Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.
Man knows that the world is not made on a human scale; and he wishes that it were.
If you want to link to Andre Malraux about men, please use this address: