The God that can be named is not God.

When you were called, did you answer or did you not? Perhaps softly and in a whisper?

Christendom has done away with Christianity without being quite aware of it.

If there were no eternal consciousness in a man, if at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment, a power that twisting in dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential; if an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything, what would life be but despair?

Irony is a qualification of subjectivity.

No time of life is so beautiful as the early days of love, when with every meeting, every glance, one fetches something new home to rejoice over.

To the frivolous Christianity is certainly not glad tidings, for it wishes first of all to make them serious.