Alas! There cometh the time when man will no longer give birth to any star. Alas! There cometh the time of the most despicable man, who can no longer despise himself.

Enduring habits I hate.... Yes, at the very bottom of my soul I feel grateful to all my misery and bouts of sickness and everything about me that is imperfect, because this sort of thing leaves me with a hundred backdoors through which I can escape from enduring habits.

The masters have been done away with; the morality of the common man has triumphed.

We are, all of us, growing volcanoes that approach the hour of their eruption, but how near or distant that is, nobody knows- not even God.

It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.

I can be thrown by the wayside, but I'm looking at the stars.

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