Whatever a theologian regards as true must be false: there you have almost a criterion of truth.

All words are prejudices.

When a man is ill his very goodness is sickly.

Life, and you, and I, and all of us together became for a while interesing to ourselves once more.

When a hundred men stand together, each of them loses his mind and gets another one.

After all, what would be "beautiful" if the contradiction had not first become conscious of itself, if the ugly had not first said to itself: "I am ugly"?.

It is nothing but fanaticism and beautiful soulism to expect very much (or even, much only) from humanity when it has forgotten how to wage war.