The past was a dream wasn't it? And who ever remembers dreams?

He was the soul of politeness to everyone -- to some with a hint of aversion, to others with a hint of respect.

Great God, grant that twice two be not four.

Who among us has the strength to oppose petty egoism, those petty good feelings, pity and remorse?

In the end, nature is inexorable: it has no reason to hurry and, sooner or later, it takes what belongs to it. Unconsciously and inflexibly obedient to its own laws, it doesn't know art, just as it doesn't know freedom, just as it doesn't know goodness.

Nature cares nothing for logic, our human logic: she has her own, which we do not recognize and do not acknowledge until we are crushed under its wheel

Each individual is more or less dimly aware of his significance, is aware that he's something innately superior, something eternal--and lives, is obligated to live, in the moment and for the moment.