And we, inhabitants of the great coral of the Cosmos, believe the atom (which still we cannot see) to be full matter, whereas, it too, like everything else, is but an embroidery of voids in the Void, and we give the name of being, dense and even eternal, to that dance of inconsistencies, that infinite extension that is identified with absolute Nothingness and that spins from its own non-being the illusion of everything.

There are four types: the cretin, the imbecile, the stupid and the mad. Normality is a balanced mixture of all four.

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.

Show not what has been done, but what can be. How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths.

Never affirm, always allude: allusions are made to test the spirit and probe the heart.

In other words, although I don't like them, we do need noble-spirited souls.

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