Under Each Formula Lies A Corpse.

The Truly Solitary Being Is Not The Man Who Is Abandoned By Men, But The Man Who Suffers In Their Midst, Who Drags His Desert Through The Marketplace And Deploys His Talents As A Smiling Leper, A Mountebank Of The Irreparable.

The Fanatic Is Incorruptible: If He Kills For An Idea, He Can Just As Well Get Himself Killed For One; In Either Case, Tyrant Or Martyr, He Is A Monster.

How Good Would It Be If One Could Die By Throwing Oneself Into An Infinite Void.

The More Intense A Spiritual Leader's Appetite For Power, The More He Is Concerned To Limit It To Others.

A People Represents Not So Much An Aggregate Of Ideas And Theories As Of Obsessions.