Woman gives herself as a prize to the weak and as a prop to the strong and no man ever has what he should.

The art of living is the art of knowing how to believe lies.

Reality is a prison, where one vegetates and always will.

There comes a day when, for someone who has persecuted us, we feel only indifference, a weariness at his stupidity. Then we forgive him.

We commit two wrongs when we fail to right a wrong.

If it were possible to have a life absolutely free from every feeling of sin, what a terrifying vacuum it would be.

Suffering is by no means a privilege, a sign of nobility, a reminder of God. Suffering is a fierce, bestial thing, commonplace, uncalled for, natural as air. It is intangible; no one can grasp it or fight against it; it dwells in time - is the same thing as time; if it comes in fits and starts, that is only so as to leave the sufferer more defenseless during the moments that follow, those long moments when one relives the last bout of torture and waits for the next.