Such then is the human state, that to wish greatness for one’s country is to wish harm to one’s neighbors.

“Abroad,” that large home of ruined reputations.

There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken.

Nationalism is an infantile disease, the measles of mankind.

Do not do unto others as you would that they should do unto you. Their tastes may not be the same.

To think ill of mankind, and not wish ill to them, is perhaps the highest wisdom and virtue.

We have really everything in common with America nowadays, except, of course, language.

France has neither winter, summer, nor morals—apart from these drawbacks it is a fine country.

Intolerance is evidence of impotence.

This is not a clash between civilizations. It is a clash about civilization.

All men naturally hate each other. We have used concupiscence as best we can to make it serve the common good, but this is mere sham and a false image of charity, for essentially it is just hate.

Other nations use “force”; we Britons alone use “might.”