A man devoid of hope and conscious of being so has ceased to belong to the future.

Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.

Our reason has driven all away. Alone at last, we end up ruling over a desert.

Crime too is a form of solitude, even if one thousand get together to commit it. And it is right for me to die alone, after having lived and killed alone.

I can feel this heart inside me and I conclude it exists. I can touch this world and I also conclude that it exists. All my knowledge ends at this point. The rest is hypothesis.

Men who have greatness within them don't go in for politics.

The slave begins by demanding justice and ends by wanting to wear a crown.