The quest for certainty blocks the search for meaning. Uncertainty is the very condition to impel man to unfold his powers.

Even the most sadistic and destructive man is human, as human as the saint.

In the 19th century inhumanity meant cruelty; in the 20th century it means schizoid self-alienation.

I want to mention that Marx shares something, if you don't mind the comparison, with the Old Testament: many people talk about him, but nobody has read him.

Love is the child of freedom, never that of domination.

The manual worker does not have to sell his personality. He doesn't have to sell his smile.

Boredom is nothing but the experience of a paralysis of our productive powers and the sense of unaliveness. Among the evils of life, there are few which are as painful as boredom, and consequently every attempt is made to avoid it.