Man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is.

The only really committed artist is he who, without refusing to take part in the combat, at least refuses to join the regular armies and remains a freelance.

But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?

Man is an idea, and a precious small idea once he turns his back on love.

Every man needs slaves like he needs clean air. To rule is to breathe, is it not? And even the most disenfranchised get to breathe. The lowest on the social scale have their spouses or their children.

Against eternal injustice, man must assert justice, and to protest against the universe of grief, he must create happiness.