It vexes me greatly that having to earn my living has forced me to interrupt the work and to attend to small matters.

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Capital is dead labor, which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking living labor, and lives the more, the more labor it sucks.

The traditions of the dead generations weigh like a nightmare upon the living.

As long as I have a want, I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death.

It is not pleasure that makes life worth living. It is life that makes pleasure worth having.