Tragedy is like strong acid -- it dissolves away all but the very gold of truth.

Tragedy is like strong acid - it dissolves away all but the very gold of truth.

The tragedy is when you've got sex in the head instead of down where it belongs.

Naught is possessed, neither gold, nor land nor love, nor life, nor peace, nor even sorrow nor death, nor yet salvation. Say of nothing: It is mine. Say only: It is with me.

The bourgeois produces the bolshevist, inevitably as every half-truth at length produces the contradiction of itself in the opposite half-truth.

Art-speech is the only truth. An artist is usually a damned liar, but his art, if it be art, will tell you the truth of his day. And that is all that matters. Away with eternal truth.