My guiding principle is this: Guilt is never to be doubted.

The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired. Only after death, only in solitude, does a man’s true nature emerge. In death, as on the chimney sweep’s Saturday night, the soot gets washed from his body.

He is a free and secure citizen of the world because he is on a chain that is long enough to allow him access to all parts of the earth, and yet not so long that he could be swept over the edge of it.

Knowledge we have. Anyone who strives for it with particular intensity is suspect of striving against it.

The dream reveals the reality which conception lags behind. That is the horror of life-the terror of art.

Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love, an unearthly love but still for earthly objects.

The state we find ourselves in is sinful quite independent of guilt.