Idleness is fatal only to the mediocre.

Every writer, big or small, needs to say or write that the genius is always hissed at by his contemporaries. Naturally, this is not true, it happens only occasionally and often by chance. But this need within the writer is enlightening.

The real 19th century prophet was Dostoevsky, not Karl Marx.

Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.

We are living in the era of premeditation and the perfect crime. Our criminals are no longer helpless children who could plead love as their excuse. On the contrary, they are adults and the have the perfect alibi: philosophy, which can be used for any purpose - even for transforming murderers into judges.

Although it was the middle of winter, I finally realized that, within me, summer was inextinguishable.

We have art in order not to die of life.