The ceaseless labour of your life is to build the house of death.
My life has been full of terrible misfortunes most of which never happened.
A straight oar looks bent in the water. What matters is not merely that we see things but how we see them.
I know well what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of.
The public weal requires that men should betray, and lie, and massacre.
One may be humble out of pride.
If anyone thinks he has no responsibilities, it is because he has not sought them out.
A realist, in Venice, would become a romantic by mere faithfulness to what he saw before him.
The worst of my actions or conditions seem not so ugly unto me as I find it both ugly and base not to dare to avouch for them.
If ordinary people complain that I speak too much of myself, I complain that they do not even think of themselves.