I committed the first crime by creating men as mortals. After that, what more could you do, you the murderers? Come on; they already had death in them: at most you simply hastened things a little.

Every human endeavor, however singular it seems, involves the whole human race.

I wanted my own words. But the ones I use have dragged through I don't know how many consciences.

I have nothing but contempt for you idiotic chosen ones who have the heart to rejoice when there are the damned in Hell and the poor on earth; as for me, I am on the side of men and I will not leave it.

It is enough that one man hate another for hate to gain, little by little, all mankind.

The sun is not ridiculous, quite the contrary. On everything I like, on the rust of the construction girders, on the rotten boards of the fence, a miserly, uncertain light falls, like the look you give, after a sleepless night, on decisions made with enthusiasm the day before, on pages you have written in one spurt without crossing out a word.

I have no religion, but if I were to choose one, it would be that of Shariati's.