The most welcome joke to me is the one that takes the place of a heavy, not altogether innocuous thought, at once a cautionary hint of the finger and a flash of the eye.

Man is no longer an artist, he has become a work of art.

The woman and the genius do not work. Up to now, woman has been mankind's supreme luxury. In all those moments when we do our best, we do not work. Work is merely a means to these moments.

One is fruitful only at the cost of being rich in contradictions.

There are people who are so presumptuous that they know no other way to praise a greatness that they publicly admire than by representing it as a preliminary stage and bridge leading to themselves.

He who cannot command himself should obey. And many can command themselves, but much is still lacking before they can obey themselves.

Few are made for independence, it is the privilege of the strong.