The Only Certainty Is Death.

There Are In France Some Fifty Thousand Young Men Of Good Birth And Fairly Well Off Who Are Encouraged To Live A Life Of Complete Idleness. They Must Either Cease To Exist Or Must Come To See That There Can Be No Happiness, No Health Even, Without Regular Daily Labor Of Some Sort... The Need Of Work Is In Me.

Solitude Is Indeed Dangerous For A Working Intelligence. We Need To Have Around Us People Who Think And Speak. When We Are Alone For A Long Time We People The Void With Phantoms

Military Men Are The Scourges Of The World.

The Only Certainty Is Death.

Whatever One Wishes To Say, There Is One Noun Only By Which To Express It, One Verb Only To Give It Life, One Adjective Only Which Will Describe It. One Must Search Until One Has Discovered Them, This Noun, This Verb, This Adjective, And Never Rest Content With Approximations, Never Resort To Trickery, However Happy, Or To Vulgarism, In Order To Dodge The Difficulty.