In the long run, only woman remains true to mankind's foremost mission. Whatever she achieves, she achieves through herself, and alone. Man's master is the--public.

It's actually the spirit helping the spirit; it is the doctor, the bed, the potion.

Mankind is getting smarter every day. Actually, it only seems so. At least we are making progress. We're progressing, to be sure, ever more deeply into the forest.

Poetry, it is often said and loudly so, is life's true mirror. But a monkey looking into a work of literature looks in vain for Socrates.

Distinctly different as a child, as an adolescent, in his prime and in his old age, man considers himself as one, not because he acts, but because he knows.

A pious woman's neighbor, a philanthropist's child, a liberal's servant--these three have a hard life.

Drive the women from the bed just as you drove them from the choir; a eunuch sings in Rome, and the priests masturbate.