Somewhere between the Angels and the French lies the rest of humanity.

The basic test of freedom is perhaps less in what we are free to do than in what we are free not to do.

The remarkable thing is that we really love our neighbor as ourselves: we do unto others as we do unto ourselves. We hate others when we hate ourselves. We are tolerant toward others when we tolerate ourselves. We forgive others when we forgive ourselves. We are prone to sacrifice others when we are ready to sacrifice ourselves.

We never say so much as when we do not quite know what we want to say. We need few words when we have something to say, but all the words in all the dictionaries will not suffice when we have nothing to say and want desperately to say it.

It is doubtful whether the oppressed ever fight for freedom. They fight for pride and power-power to oppress others.

It is part of the formidableness of a genuine mass movement that the self-sacrifice it promotes includes also a sacrifice of some of the moral sense, which cramps and restrains our nature.

Someone who thinks the world is always cheating him is right. He is missing that wonderful feeling of trust in someone or something.