How clear everything becomes when you look from the darkness of a dungeon.

Absence is to love as wind is to fire: it extinguishes the little flame, it fans the big.

The lunatic is all idée fixe, and whatever he comes across confirms his lunacy. You can tell him by the liberties he takes with common sense, by his flashes of inspiration, and by the fact that sooner or later he brings up the Templars.

I have lost the freedom of not having an opinion.

Is it possible to say "It was a beautiful morning at the end of November" without feeling like Snoopy?

The more things you know, or pretend to know, the more powerful you are. It doesn't matter if the things are true. What counts, remember, is to possess a secret.

A sure sign of a lunatic is that sooner or later, he brings up the Templars.