Truth, like surgery, may hurt, but it cures.

Many events seem to happen twice to me; even trifles, unimportant-seeming, recur, as if I were destined to live them again, time reconquered, but with added knowledge and a different outcome.

With some people there is such a thing as the habit of betrayal.

We are all products of our time, vulnerable to history.

People bring to what they see and feel, the inner weather of their souls and complexion of their minds.

The rice bowl is to me the most valid reason in the world for doing anything. A piece of one's soul to the multitudes in return for rice and wine does not seem to me a sacrilege.

Persecution matures young rebels.