The statue of Freedom has not been cast yet, the furnace is hot, we can all still burn our fingers.
— Georg Buchner
You women could make someone fall in love even with a lie.
Raise your eyes and count the small gang of your oppressors who are only strong through the blood they suck from you and through your arms which you lend them unwillingly.
The weapon of the Republic is terror, and virtue is its strength.
I'll know how to die with courage; that is easier than living.
Government must be a transparent garment which tightly clings to the people's body.
The life of the wealthy is one long Sunday.
How many women does one need to sing the scale of love all the way up and down?
There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined.
Death is the most blessed dream.
The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.
The power of the people and the power of reason are one.
The death clock is ticking slowly in our breast, and each drop of blood measures its time, and our life is a lingering fever.
We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces.
The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world.
We have not made the Revolution, the Revolution has made us.
Your words smell of corpses.
They say in the grave there is peace, and peace and the grave are one and the same.
We are always on stage, even when we are stabbed in earnest at the end.
Dying people often become childish.
Revolution is like Saturn, it devours its own children.
The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom.
A good man with a good conscience doesn't walk so fast.
The revolutionary government is the despotism of liberty against tyranny.
The strides of humanity are slow, they can only be counted in centuries.
Peace to the shacks! War on the palaces!
Love is a peculiar thing.
One must love humanity in order to reach out into the unique essence of each individual: no one can be too low or too ugly.
Whoever finishes a revolution only halfway, digs his own grave.
That is a long word: forever!