Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering.

Wealth is the number of things one can do without.

He walked on without resting. He had a terrible longing for some distraction, but he did not know what to do, what to attempt. A new overwhelming sensation was gaining more and more mastery over him every moment; this was an immeasurable, almost physical, repulsion for everything surrounding him, an obstinate, malignant feeling of hatred. All who met him were loathsome to him - he loathed their faces, their movements, their gestures. If anyone had addressed him, he felt that he might have spat at him or bitten him... .

A hundred suspicions don't make a proof.

You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again.

Every decent man of our age must be a coward and a slave. That is his normal condition. Of that I am firmly persuaded. He is made and constructed to that very end. And not only at the present time owing to some casual circumstance, but always, at all times, a decent man is bound to be a coward and a slave.

People with new ideas, people with the faintest capacity for saying something new, are extremely few in number, extraordinarily so, in fact.