He was still a creature of impulse and spontaneity, qualities which prevent a man from being wholly bad.
“In the morning I write love-letters and in the afternoon I dig graves. Such is life, countryman.”
That light of liberty that men call death.
Work and suffering are the two faces of man.
What greater flood can there be than the flood of ideas? How quickly they submerge all that they set out to destroy, how rapidly do they create terrifying depths!
To see nothing of a person makes it possible to credit him with all the perfections.