Cannibals prefer those who have no spines..
A dream will always triumph over reality, once it is given the chance.
I hadn't known there were so many idiots in the world until I started using the Internet.
Art gives man a reminder that he is not just a consumer but a creator as well. It awakens in him the urge to struggle and perform great deeds; it fills him with the craving to pass on the Promethean fire to generations to come.
Faith is, at one and the same time, absolutely necessary and altogether impossible.
Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilizations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed.
He who has had, has been, but he who hasn't been, has been had.
Have it compose a poem -- a poem about a haircut! But lofty, noble, tragic, timeless, full of love, treachery, retribution, quiet heroism in the face of certain doom! Six lines, cleverly rhymed, and every word beginning with the letter s!
The whole plan hinged upon the natural curiosity of potatoes.
If man had more of a sense of humor, things might have turned out differently
For moral reasons ... the world appears to me to be put together in such a painful way that I prefer to believe that it was not created ... intentionally.
My pessimism (which, by the way, is far from absolute) originated with my despair in the lack of perfection to be found in human nature. I was attempting in my successive books to show the inevitable handicap of the human condition.
I don't resist progress, but I have a growing feeling that mankind uses it mostly for disgraceful purposes.
We are like snails, each stuck to his own leaf.
Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him.
Behind every glorious facade there is always hidden something ugly.
Do not trust people. They are capable of greatness..
What gave you this idea of an imperfect god?' 'I don't know. It seems quite feasible to me. That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not a redemption, who saves nothing, fulfills no purpose--a god who simply is.
A man who for an entire week does nothing but hit himself over the head has little reason to be proud.
Either something is authentic or it is unauthentic, it is either false or true, make-believe or spontaneous life; yet here we are faced with a prevaricated truth and an authentic fake, hence a thing that is at once the truth and a lie.
Where do consequences lead? Depends on the escort.
To torture a man you have to know his pleasures.
The night stared me in the face, amorphous, blind, infinite, without frontiers. Not a single start relieved the darkness behind the glass.
Cancel me not - for what then shall remain? Abscissas, some mantissas, modules, modes, A root or two, a torus and a node: The inverse of my verse, a null domain.
In Riemann, Hilbert or in Banach space Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways. Our symptotes no longer out of phase, We shall encounter, counting, face to face.
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