God created man and, finding him not sufficiently alone, gave him a companion to make him feel his solitude more keenly.

The history of thought may be summed up in these words: it is absurd by what it seeks and great by what it finds.

One should be light like a bird, and not like a feather.

Having precise ideas often leads to a man doing nothing.

Latent in every man is a venom of amazing bitterness, a black resentment; something that curses and loathes life, a feeling of being trapped, of having trusted and been fooled, of being helpless prey to impotent rage, blind surrender, the victim of a savage, ruthless power that gives and takes away, enlists a man, drops him, promises and betrays, and -crowning injury- inflicts on him the humiliation of feeling sorry for himself.

History is the science of things which are not repeated.

In most cases, when the lion, weary of obeying its master, has torn and devoured him, its nerves are pacified and it looks round for another master before whom to grovel.