Heaven and hell seem out of proportion to me: the actions of men do not deserve so much.

Nobody could stand an eternity of Heaven.

I foresee that man will resign himself each day to new abominations, and soon that only bandits and soldiers will be left.

Nothing is built on stone; all is built on sand, but we must build as if the sand were stone.

Art always opts for the individual, the concrete; art is not Platonic.

A writer always begins by being too complicated—he’s playing at several games at once.