The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world.
There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined.
The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.
We are always on stage, even when we are stabbed in earnest at the end.
The weapon of the Republic is terror, and virtue is its strength.
Government must be a transparent garment which tightly clings to the people's body.