What is a firm hand to me, of what use to me is this astonishing power if I cannot change the order of things, if I cannot make the sun set in the east, that suffering diminish and that beings no longer die?
Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.
In Holland, everyone is an expert in painting and in tulips.
You always get exaggerated notions of things you don't know anything about.
Proof is never definitive, after all; one has to begin again with each new person.
The future is the only kind of property that the masters willingly concede to the slaves.