Do you think that I count the days? We have only one now, that begins and begins again; it is given to us with the dawn and taken away with the night.
Better have beasts that stand and let themselves be killed than men who run like rabbits.
As for men, it’s not what they are that interests me, but what they can become.
A victory described in detail is indistinguishable from a defeat.
A murder. I say, it’s so abstract. You pull the trigger and after that you no longer know what goes on.
A man is what he wills himself to be.
A man can’t become a saint when he has to work sixteen hours a day.
A good hanging now and then – that entertains folk in the provinces and robs death of its glamour…
