“The first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of saying This is mine, and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not any one have saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to his fellows, "Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody.”

“I must say, though, that a man who has staked his whole life on the card of a woman's love and who, when that card is trumped, falls to pieces and lets himself go to the dogs -- a fellow like that is not a man, not a male. You say he's unhappy -- you know best. But all the nonsense hasn't been taken out of him yet. I'm sure he really believes he's a smart fellow just because he reads that rag Galignani and saves a muzhik from a flogging once a month.”

“He thought about himself, and the whole Earth,Of Man the wonderful, and of the Stars,And how the deuce they ever could have birth;And then he thought of Earthquakes, and of Wars,How many miles the Moon might have in girth,Of Air-balloons, and of the many barsTo perfect Knowledge of the boundless Skies;And then he thought of Donna Julia's eyes.”

“Where has God gone?” [the madman asked] “I shall tell you. Wehave killed him – you and I. We are his murderers. But how have wedone this? How were we able to drink up the seas? Who gave us thesponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when weunchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now?Whither are we moving now? Away from all suns? Are we not perpetually falling? Backwards, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as though through Infinite nothing?Where is God? God is Dead. Go remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murders of all murders, console ourselves?”

“Desks are terrible places, no matter how many wheels a chair might have. You can't do much about how drawers fill up.”

“Who understands war: the solders? the homeless ones? Mussolini? Or the leaders of the English and the Americans? No, nobody understands war, they only think they do. Maybe the earth that drinks up the blood understands it and says: "How foolish is man. Of all the animals that lives upon me, he is the cleverest and the most foolish.”