Christianity is an idea, and as such is indestructible and immortal, like every idea.

He only profits from praise who values criticism.

Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.

Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.

Wild, dark times are rumbling toward us, and the prophet who wishes to write a new apocalypse will have to invent entirely new beasts, and beasts so terrible that the ancient animal symbols of St. John will seem like cooing doves and cupids in comparison.

Oh what lies there are in kisses! And their guile so well prepared! Sweet the snaring is; but this is Sweeter still, to be ensnared.

All I really want is enough to live on, a little house in the country... and a tree in the garden with seven of my enemies hanging in it.