A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.

There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.

It was always the same; other people gave up loving before she did. They got spoilt, or else they went away; in any case, they were partly to blame. Why did it happen so? She herself never changed; when she loved anyone, it was for life. She could not understand desertion; it was something so huge, so monstrous that the notion of it made her little heart break.

The only basis for living is believing in life, loving it, and applying the whole force of one's intellect to know it better.

I have but one passion: to enlighten those who have been kept in the dark, in the name of humanity which has suffered so much and is entitled to happiness. My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.

Man's highest duty is to protect animals from cruelty.

If something's just, I'll let myself be hacked to bits for it.