This then is the age of reason.

One is still what one is going to cease to be and already what one is going to become. One lives one's death, one dies one's life.

So that is what hell is. I would never have believed it. You remember: the fire and brimstone, the torture. Ah! the farce. There is no need for torture: Hell is other people.

If I became a philosopher, if I have so keenly sought this fame for which I'm still waiting, it's all been to seduce women basically.

The consciousness that says 'I am' is not the consciousness that thinks.

What I see is teeming cohesion, contained dispersal... For him, to sculpt is to take the fat off space.

Once freedom lights its beacon in man's heart, the gods are powerless against him.