“You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!”

I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.

Yes, as my swift days near their goal, ’tis all that I implore: In life and death a chainless soul, with courage to endure.

Terror made me cruel.

Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.

I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions and him entirely and all together.

If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.

Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?

A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free… Why am I so changed? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

I understand that most ladies tend to prefer lap dogs…. Perhaps I am an exception.

He’ll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to loved or hated again.

By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.

Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

I know that after my death a pile of rubbish will be heaped on my grave, but the wind of History will sooner or later sweep it away without mercy.

Love dies because its birth was an error.

A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.

When it comes to hang the capitalists they will compete with each other to sell us the rope at a lower price.

The ideal way to get rid of any infectious disease would be to shoot instantly every person who comes down with it.

I don’t take nothin’ from no one. I do what I wanna do. And I’m gonna do that until the day I die. And if I can’t do that, then I’ll just die.

We are not shooting enough professors.

Fascism is capitalism in decay.