Philosophy is properly home-sickness; the wish to be everywhere at home.
Philosophy is an unusually ingenious attempt to think fallaciously.
When a man does not realise his kinship with the world, he lives in a prison-house whose walls are alien to him.
When the tyrant has disposed of foreign enemies by conquest or treaty, and there is nothing more to fear from them, then he is always stirring up some war or other, in order that the people may require a leader.
When we are unable to find tranquility within ourselves, it is useless to seek it elsewhere.
When our vices leave us, we like to imagine it is we who are leaving them.
When we cannot be delivered from ourselves, we delight in devouring ourselves.
Whatever hysteria exists is inflamed by mystery, suspicion and secrecy. Hard and exact facts will cool it.
Whatsoever is contrary to nature is contrary to reason, and whatsoever is contrary to reason is absurd.
When life does not find a singer to sing her heart, she produces a philosopher to speak her mind.
The farmer is a born philosopher, the aristocrat has to learn how.
Philosophy means being able to explain why you are happy when you are poor.
Life is a difficult question; I have decided to spend my life in thinking about it.
When our guides and those who are cherished by us leave and disappear, they are not annihilated, they are like stars that vanish into the light of the sun of reality.
When I play with my cat, how do I know that she is not playing with me rather than I with her?