We all live in suspense, from day to day, from hour to hour; in other words, we are the hero of our own story.

If you talked or laughed in church, told lies, had impure thoughts or conversations, you were bad; if you obeyed your parents or guardians, went to confession and communion regularly, said prayers for the dead, you were good.

The idea of Macbeth as a conscience-torm ented man is a platitude as false as Macbeth himself. Macbeth has no conscience. His main concern throughout the play is that most selfish of all concerns: to get a good night's sleep.

What's the use of falling in love if you both remain inertly as you were?

This grossly advertised wonder [Venice], this gold idol with clay feet, this trompe-l'oeil, this painted deception, this cliche-what intelligent iconoclast could fail to experience a destructive impulse in her presence?

In morals as in politics anarchy is not for the weak.

In science, all facts, no matter how trivial or banal, enjoy democratic equality.