Psychology Is A Bus That Accompanies An

Nationalism Is The Love Which Ties Me To The Blockheads Of My Country, To The Insultors Of My Way Of Life, And To The Desecrators Of My Language.

Anesthesia: Wounds Without Pain. Neurasthenia: Pain Without Wounds.

When I Take Up My Pen, Nothing Can Happen To Me. Fate, Remember That.

Through My Satire I Make Little People So Big That Afterwards They Are Worthy Objects Of My Satire And No One Can Reproach Me Any Longer.

My Language Is The Common Prostitute That I Turn Into A Virgin.