My undertaking is not difficult, essentially. I should only have to be immortal to carry it out.

I am god, I am hero, I am philosopher, I am demon and I am world, which is a tedious way of saying that I do not exist.

I am almost sure to be blotted out by death, but sometimes I think it is not impossible that I may continue to live in some other manner after my physical death.... Or, as Hamlet wonders, what dreams will come when we leave this body?

Like all those possessing a library, Aurelian was aware that he was guilty of not knowing his in its entirety.

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.