Anti-clericalism and non-belief, have their bigots just as orthodoxy does.
I enter the world called real as one enters a mist.
Yesterday, happiness came in suddenly, as it used to, and remained for a moment in the great, dark, silent drawing room.
I am probably exaggerating a little, but I owe my equilibrium to ink and paper.
Perhaps the greatest consolation of the oppressed is to consider themselves superior to their tyrants.
Thought flies and words go on foot.