Uncalled-for aggression arouses the hatred of the civilian population.

You are -- your life, and nothing else.

One cannot become a saint when one works sixteen hours a day.

Naturally, in the course of my life I have made lots of mistakes, large and small, for one reason or another, but at the heart of it all, every time I made a mistake it was because I was not radical enough.

It is no longer possible to escape men. Farewell to the monsters, farewell to the saints. Farewell to pride. All that is left is men.

When rich people fight wars with one another, poor people are the ones to die.

I do not feel that I am the product of chance, a speck of dust in the universe, but someone who was expected, prepared, prefigured. In short, a being whom only a Creator could put here; and this idea of a creating hand refers to God.