The flesh, alas, is sad, and I have read all the books.
No matter how full a reservoir of maxims one may possess, and no matter how good one’s sentiments may be, if one has not taken advantage of every concrete opportunity to act, one’s character may remain entirely unaffected for the better.
To be a real philosopher all that is necessary is to hate some one else’s type of thinking.
I don’t sing because I’m happy; I’m happy because I sing.
There must be something solemn, serious, and tender about any attitude which we denominate religious. If glad, it must not grin or snicker; if sad, it must not scream or curse.
Have not prisons – which kill all will and force of character in man, which enclose within their walls more vices than are met with on any other spot of the globe – always been universities of crime?
In reading, a lonely quiet concert is given to our minds; all our mental faculties will be present in this symphonic exaltation.
Compared to what we ought to be, we are half awake.
The way we make sense of a realistic text is through the same broad ideological frame as the way we make sense of our social experience or rather, the way we are made sense of by the discourses of our culture.
Truth is what works.