Capitalism, as a result of its own inner contradictions, moves toward a point when it will be unbalanced, when it will simply become impossible.

Tomorrow the revolution will already 'raise itself with a rattle' and announce with fanfare, to your terror: I was, I am, I will be!

Life is singing also in the sand crunching under the slow and heavy steps of the guards, when we know how to listen to it.

Before a revolution happens, it is perceived as impossible; after it happens, it is seen as having been inevitable.

Only to the rude ear of one who is quite indifferent does the song of a bird seem always the same.

The victory of socialism will not descend like fate from heaven.

Without general elections, without freedom of the press, freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, without the free battle of opinions, life in every public institution withers away, becomes a caricature of itself, and bureaucracy rises as the only deciding factor.