One does not adopt a new idea, one slips into it.

The poor don't know that their function in life is to exercise our generosity.

Ha! to forget. How childish! I feel you in my bones. Your silence screams in my ears. You may nail your mouth shut, you may cut out your tongue, can you keep yourself from existing? Will you stop your thoughts.

This [service to oppressed] is the writer's task, and, if he fulfills it as he should, he acquires no merit from it.

I have no need for good souls: an accomplice is what I wanted.

Neither sex, without some fertilization of the complimentary characters of the other, is capable of the highest reaches of human endeavor.

To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June