Truth is a woman. That is why it is enigmatic.
Art—the meaning of the pattern of our common actions in reality. The cloth-of-gold that hides behind the sackcloth of reality, forced out by the pain of human memory.
Who invented the human heart, I wonder? Tell me, and then show me the place where he was hanged.
It is the duty of every patriot to hate his country creatively.
All culture corrupts, but French culture corrupts absolutely.
Truth is a matter of direct apprehension-you can't climb a ladder of mental concepts to it.