Likewise, every time somebody interjects to speak of my honesty there is someone who quivers inside me.

Here lives a free man. Nobody serves him.

Intelligence in chains loses in lucidity what it gains in intensity.

There is only one class of men, the privileged class

A novel is never anything but a philosophy expressed in images. And in a good novel the philosophy has disappeared into the images.

Truth and freedom, having few lovers, are demanding mistresses.

One cannot be a part-time nihilist.