He Who Integrates Is Lost.

A Pencil And Rubber Are Of More Use To Thought Than A Battalion Of Assistants. To Happiness The Same Applies As To Truth: One Does Not Have It, But Is In It.

Indeed, Happiness Is Nothing Other Than Being Encompassed, An After-image Of The Original Shelter Within The Mother. But For This Reason No One Who Is Happy Can Know That He Is So. To See Happiness, He Would Have To Pass Out Of It: To Be As If Already Born. He Who Says He Is Happy Lies, And In Invoking Happiness, Sins Against It. He Alone Keeps Faith Who Says: I Was Happy.

Fear And Destructiveness Are The Major Emotional Sources Of Fascism, Eros Belongs Mainly To Democracy.

Dissonance Is The Truth About Harmony.

Talent Is Perhaps Nothing Other Than Successfully Sublimated Rage.