We turn our backs on nature; we are ashamed of beauty. Our wretched tragedies have a smell of the office clinging to them, and the blood that trickles from them is the color of printer's ink.

There is but one freedom, to put oneself right with death. After that everything is possible.

I knew a pure heart who refused tot be mistrustful.... He had written at his doorstep: "From wherever you are, enter and be welcome". Who do you think responded to this lovely invitation? The militia, who made themselves at home and gutted him.

The modern mind is in complete disarray. Knowledge has stretched itself to the point where neither the world nor our intelligence can find any foot-hold. It is a fact that we are suffering from nihilism.

... I suppose that it is not so easy to go home and it takes a bit of time to make a son out of a stranger.

There are crimes of passion and crimes of logic. The boundary between them is not clearly defined.

Truth, like light is dazzling. By contrast, untruth is a beautiful sunset that enhances everything.