A Work Of Art Is An Exaggeration.

Our Judgements About Things Vary According To The Time Left Us To Live -that We Think Is Left Us To Live.

Society Knows Perfectly Well How To Kill A Man And Has Methods More Subtle Than Death

Each Of Us Really Understands In Others Only Those Feelings He Is Capable Of Producing Himself.

It Seems To Me That Had I Not Known Dostoevsky Or Nietzsche Or Freud Or X Or Z, I Should Have Thought Just As I Did, And That I Found In Them Rather An Authorization Than An Awakening. Above All, They Taught Me To Cease Doubting, To Cease Fearing My Thoughts, And To Let Those Thoughts Lead Me To Those Lands That Were Not Uninhabitable Because After All I Found Them Already There .

So Long As We Live Among Men, Let Us Cherish Humanity.