We live at a time when man believes himself fabulously capable of creation, but he does not know what to create.

The mass believes that it has the right to impose and to give force of law to notions born in the café.

I am I plus my circumstances.

We fall in love when our imagination projects nonexistent perfection upon another person. One day, the fantasy evaporates and with it, love dies.

If the human intellect functions, it is actually in order to solve the problems which the man's inner destiny sets it.

The well being of democracies regardless of their type and status is dependent on one small technical detail: The right to vote. Everything else is secondary.

The form most contradictory to human life that can appear among the human species is the "self-satisfied man."