Dying people often become childish. |
The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom. |
Raise your eyes and count the small gang of your oppressors who are only strong through the blood they suck from you and through your arms which you lend them unwillingly. |
That is a long word: forever! |
The power of the people and the power of reason are one. |
A good man with a good conscience doesn't walk so fast. |
We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces. |
The statue of Freedom has not been cast yet, the furnace is hot, we can all still burn our fingers. |
The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled. |
We have not made the Revolution, the Revolution has made us. |
Love is a peculiar thing. |
The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world. |
The life of the wealthy is one long Sunday. |
Government must be a transparent garment which tightly clings to the people's body. |
Your words smell of corpses. |
The strides of humanity are slow, they can only be counted in centuries. |
One must love humanity in order to reach out into the unique essence of each individual: no one can be too low or too ugly. |
Death is the most blessed dream. |
There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined. |
You women could make someone fall in love even with a lie. |