If I were personally to define religion, I would say that it is a bandage that man has invented to protect a soul made bloody by circumstance.

I acknowledge the Furies. I believe in them. I have heard the disastrous beating of their wings.

Art is the stored honey of the human soul, gathered on wings of misery and travail.

'The conventional mind is at best a petty piece of machinery. It is oyster-like in its functioning, or, perhaps better, clam-like. It has its little siphon of …

Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure.

Despair is perfectly compatible with a good dinner, I promise you.

Everywhere and always, since its very inception, Christianity has turned the earth into a vale of tears; always it has made of life a weak, diseased thing, alw…