The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.

There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined.

Revolution is like Saturn, it devours its own children.

The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world.

Whoever finishes a revolution only halfway, digs his own grave.

Government must be a transparent garment which tightly clings to the people's body.

The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom.