It was Christianity, with its heartfelt resentment against life, that first made something unclean of sexuality: it threw filth on the origin, on the essential fact of our life.

The body is a big sagacity, a plurality with one sense, a war and a peace, a flock and a shepherd.

Every society has a tendency to reduce it's opponents to caricatures.

In his heart every man knows quite well that, being unique, he will be in the world only once and that no imaginable chance will for a second time gather together into a unity so strangely variegated an assortment as he is: he knows it but hides it like a bad conscience.

Underneath the reality in which we live and have our being, another altogether different reality lies concealed.

And nobody lies as much as the indignant do.

All modern philosophizing is political, policed by governments, churches, academics, custom, fashion, and human cowardice, all off which limit it to a fake learnedness.