God is a thought who makes crooked all that is straight.

I am driven out of fatherlands and motherlands. Thus I now love only my children's land, yet undiscovered, in the farthest sea; for this I bid my sails search and search.

Only the most acute and active animals are capable of boredom.

My time has not yet come either; some are born posthumously.

No more fiction, for now we calculate; but that we may calculate, we had to make fiction first.

Silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.

Of what is great one must either be silent or speak with greatness. With greatness--that means cynically and with innocence.