Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality.
Imagination, not invention, is the supreme master of art as of life.
In order to move others deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility.
Even extreme grief may ultimately vent itself in violence – but more generally takes the form of apathy.
It’s only those who do nothing that make no mistakes, I suppose.
Your strength is just an accident owed to the weakness of others.
We live as we dream – alone...
A caricature is putting the face of a joke on the body of a truth.
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.
Few men realize that their life, the very essence of their character, their capabilities and their audacities, are only the expression of their belief in the safety of their surroundings.
They were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force – nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others.
The ethical view of the universe involves us in so many cruel and absurd contradictions that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot be ethical at all.
I take it that what all men are really after is some form or perhaps only some formula of peace.
The atmosphere of officialdom would kill anything that breathes the air of human endeavour, would extinguish hope and fear alike in the supremacy of paper and ink.
The mind of man is capable of anything.
He struggled with himself, too. I saw it – I heard it. I saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear, yet struggling blindly with itself.
The question is not how to get cured, but how to live.
In the empty immensity of earth, sky, and water, there she was, incomprehensible, firing into a continent.
We live as we dream – alone. While the dream disappears, the life continues painfully.
We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness.