We monsters are necessary to nature also.

Are your convictions so fragile that mine cannot stand in opposition to them? Is your God so illusory that the presence of my Devil reveals his insufficiency?

I write what I see, the endless procession to the guillotine. Were all lined up, waiting for the crunch of the blade... the rivers of blood are flowing beneath our feet... Ive been to hell, young man, youve only read about it.

Happiness is ideal, it is the work of the imagination.

It requires only two things to win credit for a miracle: a mountebank and a number of silly women.

Let not your zeal to share your principles entice you beyond your borders.

The man who alters his way of thinking to suit others is a fool.