Truth is a river that is always splitting up into arms that reunite. Islanded between the arms the inhabitants argue for a lifetime as to which is the main river.

The disasters of the world are due to its inhabitants not being able to grow old simultaneously. There is always a raw and intolerant nation eager to destroy the tolerant and mellow.

If one is too lazy to think, too vain to do a thing badly, too cowardly to admit it, one will never attain wisdom.

There is no fury like a woman searching for a new lover.

In youth the life of reason is not in itself sufficient; afterwards the life of emotion, except for short periods, becomes unbearable.

The past is the only dead thing that smells sweet.

We are all serving a life sentence in the dungeon of the self.

We may assume that we keep people waiting symbolically because we do not wish to see them and that our anxiety is due not to being late, but to having to see them at all.

There is no suicide for which all society is not responsible.

The man who is master of his passions is Reason's slave.