Propaganda is a soft weapon hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way.
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Listen, my friend, there are two races of beings. The masses teeming and happy --common clay, if you like --eating, breeding, working, counting their pennies; people who just live; ordinary people; people you can't imagine dead. And then there are the others --the noble ones, the heroes. The ones you can quite well imagine lying shot, pale and tragic; one minute triumphant with a guard of honor, and the next being marched away between two gendarmes.
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It is restful, tragedy, because one knows that there is no more lousy hope left. You know you're caught, caught at last like a rat with all the world on its back. And the only thing left to do is shout -- not moan, or complain, but yell out at the top of your voice whatever it was you had to say. What you've never said before. What perhaps you don't even know till now.
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Oh, love is real enough; you will find it someday, but it has one archenemy -- and that is life.
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Talent is like a faucet; while it is open, you have to write. Inspiration? -- a hoax fabricated by poets for their self-importance.
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Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way.
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Talent is like a faucet; while it is open, you have to write. Inspiration? - a hoax fabricated by poets for their self-importance.
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Talent is like a faucet while it is open, you have to write. Inspiration - a hoax fabricated by poets for their self-importance.
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Poor little men, poor little cocks! As soon as they're old enough, they swell their plumage to be conquerors. If they only knew that it's enough to be just a little bit wounded and sad in order to obtain everything without fighting for it.
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To say yes, you have to sweat and roll up your sleeves and plunge both hands into life up to the elbows. It's easy to say no, even if it means dying.
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Nothing is irreparable in politics.
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The true masters of the art of living are already happy if they are not unhappy.
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Until the day of his death, no man can be sure of his courage.
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God is on everyone's side and in the last analysis, he is on the side with plenty of money and large armies.
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The only immorality is not to do what one has to do when one has to do it.
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Things are beautiful if you love them.
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One cannot weep for the entire world, it is beyond human strength. One must choose.
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Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.
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Every man thinks God is on his side. The rich and powerful know He is.
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There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy.
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Life is a wonderful thing to talk about, or to read about in history books - but it is terrible when one has to live it.
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With God, what is terrible is that one never knows whether it's not just a trick of the devil.
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Life is very nice, but it lacks form. It's the aim of art to give it some.
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Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.
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It takes a certain courage and a certain greatness to be truly base.
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Beauty is one of the rare things that do not lead to doubt of God.
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What you get free costs too much.
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