The For-itself, in fact, is nothing but the pure nihilation of the In-itself; it is like a hole of being at the heart of Being.

For common minds have an ugly ability to perceive in the deepest and richest saying nothing but their own everyday opinion.

Words are loaded pistols.

I will not be modest. Humble, as much as you like, but not modest. Modesty is the virtue of the lukewarm.

I do not think therefore I am a moustache

If I relegate impossible Salvation to the prop room, what remains? A whole man, composed of all men and as good as all of them and no better than any.

I tell you in truth: all men are Prophets or else God does not exist.