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Communism, like any other revealed religion, is largely made up of prophecies.
Every man sees in his relatives, and especially in his cousins, a series of grotesque caricatures of himself.
The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.
Poetry has done enough when it charms, but prose must also convince.
The opera is to music what a bawdy house is to a cathedral.
The chief value of money lies in the fact that one lives in a world in which it is overestimated.
No one in this world has ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the great masses of the plain people. Nor has anyone ever lost public office thereby.
What men value in this world is not rights but privileges.
To die for an idea it is unquestionably noble. But how much nobler it would be if men died for ideas that were true!
All men are frauds. The only difference between them is that some admit it. I myself deny it.