Evolution does not make happiness its goal; it aims simply at evolution and nothing else.

Perhaps no one as yet has been truthful enough about what "truthfulness" is.

Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.

How poisonous, how crafty, how bad, does every long war make one, which cannot be waged openly by means of force!

What good is all this free-thinking, modernity, and turncoat flexibility if at some gut level you are still a Christian, a Catholic, and even a priest!

What do we have in common with the rosebud, which trembles because a drop of dew lies on its body?

It is only possible through the fact that sympathy for the general life and suffering of mankind is very weakly developed in the individual.