“This is impossible to predict. War may break out unexpectedly.”

A man’s eyes should be torn out if he can only see the past

Political power does not rest with those who cast votes; political power rests with those who count votes.

Our new Soviet constitution will, in my opinion, be the most democratic constitution of all those existing in the world.

It doesn’t matter who they vote for, they always vote for us.

Mankind is divided into rich and poor, into property owners and exploited; and to abstract oneself from this fundamental division; and from the antagonism between poor and rich means abstracting oneself from fundamental facts.

The reason why there is now no communist government in Paris is because in the circumstances of 1945 the Soviet army was not able to reach French soil.

Voters decide nothing. Vote counters decide everything!

Quantity has a quality all its own.

The death of one man is tragic, but the death of thousands is statistic.

It’s not the people who vote that count. It’s the people who count the votes.

You know, they are fooling us, there is no God.

The only real power comes out of a long rifle.

When you chop wood, splinters fly.

This creature softened my heart of stone. She died and with her died my last warm feelings for humanity.

The rich experience of history teaches that up to now not a single class has voluntarily made way for another class.

How do you expect the Germans to revolt when they don’t even dare walk on the grass?

I opened up to you like a butterfly in the spring but you rained on me and broke my wings.

I’m either about to fail miserably or I’m about to have a huge break through and to be honest that’s my sweet spot or something.

She does not play with fire anymore, Her soul got burnt and hurt many times.

Leave me like you mean it. My heart can’t keep waiting for you.

Go on then, color me broken whilst I feign my surprise. Let me summon some sorrow for this wreckage inside.

Dawn breaks and this heart breaks, too. Yet the sun continues to rise and this heart of mine knows only of the journey down, like an eclipse of the heart.

I was told I could break free if I wanted to. That my wings would mend with time. But how can I mend a part of me that was never built to weather a storm?

I broke something and realized I should break something once a week to remind me how fragile life is.