Who Rebels? Who rises in arms? Rarely the slave, but almost always the oppressor turned slave.
A book is a suicide postponed.
I do not forgive myself for being born. It is as if creeping into this world, I had profaned a mystery, betrayed some momentous pledge, committed a fault of nameless gravity.
Tyrants are always assassinated too late. That is their great excuse.
Only superficial minds approach an idea with delicacy.
Tragic paradox of freedom: the mediocre men who alone make its exercise possible cannot guarantee its duration.