I have never voted in my life… I have always known and understood that the idiots are in a majority so it’s certain they will win.
Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn’t get you anywhere.
And where, I ask you, can a man escape to, when he hasn’t enough madness left inside him? The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death. You have to choose: death or lies. I’ve never been able to kill myself.
There is no rest for the humble except in despising the great, whose only thought of the people is inspired by self-interest or sadism.
The mind is satisfied with phrased, but not the body, the body is more fastidious, it wants muscles. A body always tells the truth, that’s why it’s usually depressing and disgusting to look at.
Life must go on, even if it’s no joke…just pretend to believe in the future.
It is of men, and of them only, that one should always be frightened.
People don’t deserve the restraint we show by not going into delirium in front of them.
A woman who spends her time worrying about pregnancy is a virtual cripple, she’ll never go very far.
We’ve no use for intellectuals in this outfit. What we need is chimpanzees. Let me give you a word of advice: never say a word to us about being intelligent. We will think for you, my friend. Don’t forget it.
The rich don’t have to kill to eat. They employ people, as they call it. The rich don’t do evil themselves. They pay. People do all they can to please them, and everybody’s happy.
Anybody who talks about the future is a bastard, it’s the present that counts. Invoking posterity is like making speeches to worms.
The sadness of the world has different ways of getting to people, but it seems to succeed almost every time.
I’ve got quite a memory. Engraved in my mind, things are. I can’t forget anything…It’s not a sign of intelligence…Nothing to boast about, memory…that’s just how it is…
You can lose your way groping among the shadows of the past.
There would be nothing but darkness, same darkness as everywhere else, an enormous darkness that swallowed up the road two steps ahead of us, only a little sliver of road about the size of your tongue was spared by the darkness.
A poor man in this world can be done to death in two main ways, by the absolute indifference of his fellows in peacetime or by their homicidal mania when there’s a war.
A man should be resigned to knowing himself a little better each day if he hasn’t got the guts to put an end to his sniveling once and for all.
Poor people never, or hardly ever, ask for an explanation of all they have to put up with. They hate one another, and content themselves with that.
Our life is a journey, through winter and night, We look for our way, in a sky without light. (Song of the Swiss Guards, 1793)
I crawled back into myself all alone, just delighted to observe that I was even more miserable than before, because I had brought a new kind of distress and something that resembled true feeling into my solitude.
There’s something sad about people going to bed. You can see they don’t give a damn whether they’re getting what they want out of life or not, you can see they don’t even try to understand what we’re here for. They just don’t care.
Who is the true friend of the people? Fascism is. Who has done the most for the working man? The USSR or Hitler? Hitler has… Who has done the most for the small businessman? Not Thorez but Hitler!
Lovely sight, the Apocalypse! But absurdity, without limits? No Sir! there have to be certain limits…