A politician who climbs high over the bodies of the slain is described as vile or great according to the degree of his success.

He who is allowed to do as he likes will soon run his head into a brick wall out of sheer frustration.

There is, in short, no great idea that stupidity could not put to its own uses [....] The truth by comparison, has only one appearance and only one path, and is always at a disadvantage.

... the novel is called upon like no other art form to incorporate the intellectual content of an age.

The thought came to me that all one loves in art becomes beautiful. Beauty is nothing but the expression of the fact that something is being loved. Only thus could she be defined.

[...] a number of flawed individuals can often add up to a brilliant social unit.

I also believe that few people remain completely untouched by the thought that instead of the life they lead there might also be another, where all actions proceed from a very personal state of excitement. Where actions have meanings, not just causes. And where a person, to use a trivial word, is happy, and not just nervously tormenting himself.