I myself am an absolute abyss.

I would like to write a Book which would drive men mad, which would be like an open door leading them where they would never have consented to go, in short, a door that opens onto reality.

And war is wonderful, isn't it? For it's war, isn't it, that the Americans have been preparing for and are preparing for this way step by step. In order to defend this senseless manufacture from all competition that could not fail to arise on all sides.

The actor is merely a crude empiricist, a practitioner guided by vague instinct.

Cruelty in the theatre is unrelenting decisiveness, diligence, strictness.

But how is one to make a scientist understand that there is something unalterably deranged about differential calculus, quantum theory, or the obscene and so inanely liturgical ordeals of the precession of the equinoxes.

We have the right to lie, but not about the heart of the matter.