Justice in the hands of the powerful is merely a governing system like any other. Why call it justice?

It is the perpetual dread of fear, the fear of fear, that shapes the face of a brave man.

Hell is not to love anymore.

Faith is not a thing which one loses, we merely cease to shape our lives by it.

God! how is it that we fail to recognize that the mask of pleasure, stripped of all hypocrisy, is that of anguish?

Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.

Justice in the hands of the powerful is merely a governing system like any other. Why call it justice? Let us rather call it injustice, but of a sly effective order, based entirely on cruel knowledge of the resistance of the weak, their capacity for pain, humilation and misery. Injustice sustained at the exact degree of necessary tension to turn the cogs of the huge machine-for-the-making-of-rich-men, without bursting the boiler.