Hope is a talent like any other.

The least stupid question a man asks in his lifetime is not: Is there a God and is He a god or a devil? But: Brother, why are you killing me?

My mind is not suited to go much into company.

In Europe, war is a disease which has been in the family for generations: no one is surprised when it makes another leap. Even the patient only attends to it with part of his mind.

Nationalism will keep its venom until we succeed in creating an image of the nations of the whole world as so many provinces.

Speaking the truth, once you have started it, is too exhilarating to draw back.

If the novel is dying, I see no chance that dismembering it will revive it.