I Like Reality. It Tastes Like Bread.

All Prisons Are Brimming Over With Innocence. It Is Those Who Cram Their Fellows Into Them, In The Name Of Empty Ideas, Who Are The Only Guilty Ones.

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

God! Is There Anything Uglier Than A Frightened Man!

All Children Are Sweet At Five. But At Twelve They Begin To Get Silly.

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.