"When my father's not here, I'm the boss!" There's a man for you! At his age, I was nobody's master and nothing belonged to me. In my rare moments of lavishness, my mother would whisper to me: "Be careful! We're not in our own home!" We were never in our own home, neither on the Rue le Goff nor later, when my mother remarried. This caused me no suffering since everything was loaned to me, but I remained abstract. Worldly possessions reflect to their owner what he is; they taught me what I was not. I was not substantial or permanent, I was not the future continuer of my father's work, I was not necessary to the production of steel. In short, I had no soul.
—Jean-Paul Sartre, Les Mots, p. 88