When I was small child, all that belonged to conservative society was fashionable, and no republicans were welcome in the smartersalons. People living in such a milieu could imagine that the impossibility of ever inviting an "opportunist", much less a "radical", was a thing that would last forever, like gas lamps and horse-drawn omnibuses. But similar to kaleidoscopes turning from time to time, society successively places in various ways elements which were thought to be immutable and creates a new composition.

We live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom: our body.

Even the simple act that we call "going to visit a person of our acquaintance" is in part an intellectual act. We fill the physical appearance of the person we see with all the notions we have about him, and in the totality of our impressions about him, these notions play the most important role.

Reality is never more than a first step towards an unknown on the road to which one can never progress very far.

Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.

If only for the sake of elegance, I try to remain morally pure.

A work in which there are theories is like an object which still has the ticket that shows its price.