My pessimism extends to the point of even suspecting the sincerity of other pessimists.

To be adult is to be alone.

Whether man is disposed to yield to nature or to oppose her, he cannot do without a correct understanding of her language

The ideal, without doubt, varies, but its enemies, alas, are always the same.

We find it easy to believe that praise is sincere: why should anyone lie in telling us the truth?

Falsity cannot keep an idea from being beautiful; there are certain errors of such ingenuity that one could regret their not ranking among the achievements of the human mind.

Kill one man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill them all, and you are a god.