Instinct guides the animal better than the man. In the animal it is pure, in man it is led astray by his reason and intelligence.

Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest.

We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter.

All things must be examined, debated, investigated without exception and without regard for anyone's feelings.

Those who fear the facts will forever try to discredit the fact-finders.

Disturbances in society are never more fearful than when those who are stirring up the trouble can use the pretext of religion to mask their true designs.

Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things.

Skepticism is the first step on the road to philosophy.

Oh! how near are genius and madness! Men imprison them and chain them, or raise statues to them.

In general, children, like men, and men, like children, prefer entertainment to education.

Although a man may wear fine clothing, if he lives peacefully; and is good, self-possessed, has faith and is pure; and if he does not hurt any living being, he is a holy man.

Each new day begins with a meditation, and ends with a purifying catharsis.

God loves cleanliness.The environment must be kept clean.

All the waste in a year from a nuclear power plant can be stored under a desk.

The world reflects back to you how much you value yourself.

At first I thought I should be a second Beethoven; presently I found that to be another Schubert would be good; then gradually, satisfied with less and less, I resigned to be a Humperdinck.

The German Doctors say that persons sensible of harmony have one sense more than others.

There's never enough time to do it right, but there's always enough time to do it over.

One of the very basic ideas of Post-Modernism is rejection of arbitrary power structures. Different people are sensitive to different kinds of power structures.

How often in life we complete a task that was beyond the capability of the person we were when we started it.

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.