Cognition reigns but does not rule.

That which has been believed by everyone, always and everywhere, has every chance of being false.

Love is acting stupid together.

Poetry is to prose as dancing is to walking.

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.

Order always weighs on the individual. Disorder makes him wish for the police or for death. These are two extreme circumstances in which human nature is not at ease.

To hit someone means to adopt his point of view.