We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.

In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.

Grow your tree of falsehood from a small grain of truth.

Men will clutch at illusions when they have nothing else to hold to.

Evil grows and bears fruit, which is understandable, because it has logic and probability on its side and also, of course, strength. The resistance of tiny kernels of good, to which no one grants the power of causing far-reaching consequences, is entirely mysterious, however. Such seeming nothingness not only lasts but contains within itself enormous energy which is revealed gradually.

And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is not a sign, But just a thrush on the branch? If night and day Make no sense following each other?

Irony is the glory of slaves.