“I do not despair in the least of ultimate triumph. I repeat it with intense conviction.”

The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches, but not one wooden leg.

If I cannot overwhelm with my quality, I will overwhelm with my quantity.

Respectable people, What bastards!

Everything is only a dream.

I have but one passion: to enlighten those who have been kept in the dark, in the name of humanity which has suffered so much and is entitled to happiness. My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.

They dared not peer down into their own natures, down into the feverish confusion that filled their minds with a kind of dense, acrid mist.

Inability, human incapacity, is the only boundary to an art.

Lovers are made by a kiss.

A new dynasty is never founded without a struggle. Blood makes good manure.

My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.

Since the same human mire remains beneath, does not all civilization reduce itself to the superiority of smelling nice and living well?

Man’s highest duty is to protect animals from cruelty.

Every wave is a water sprite who swims in the current, each current is a path which snakes towards my palace, and my palace is fluidly built at the bottom of the lake, in the triangle of earth, fire and water.

Nothing develops intelligence like travel.

Did science promise happiness? I do not believe it. It promised truth, and the question is to know if we will ever make happiness with truth.

In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.

Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.

Man becomes a slave to his constantly repeated acts. What he at first chooses, at last compels.

The beginning of a habit is like an invisible thread, but every time we repeat the act we strengthen the strand, add to it another filament, until it becomes a great cable and binds us irrevocably thought and act.

The only way to live is by accepting each minute as an unrepeatable miracle.

Isn’t life a series of images that change as they repeat themselves?

In a dream like haze, the moment you left still spins on repeat like a broken record.

A decision, an action, are infallible omens of what we shall do another time, not for any vague, mystic, astrological reason but because they result from an automatic reaction that will repeat itself.

The interviewer should just tell me the words he wants me to say and I’ll repeat them after him. I think that would be so great because I’m so empty I just can’t think of anything to say.