UGO BETTI

I think the family is the place where the most ridiculous and least respectable things in the world go on.

The first temptation, upon meeting an old friend after many years, is always to - look the other way.

There is no forgiveness in nature.

'Mad' is a term we use to describe a man who is obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.

There is always a certain peace in being what one is, in being that completely.

This free will business is a bit terrifying anyway. It's almost pleasanter to obey, and make the most of it.

Who cares about great marks left behind? We have one life... just one. Our life. We have nothing else.

Murderers, in general, are people who are consistent, people who are obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

All of us are mad. If it weren't for the fact every one of us is slightly abnormal, there wouldn't be any point in giving each person a separate name.

If we have anything kind to say, any tender sentiment to express, we feel a sense of shame.

Thought itself needs words. It runs on them like a long wire. And if it loses the habit of words, little by little it becomes shapeless, somber.

At any given moment, I open my eyes and exist.

It's perfectly obvious that somebody's responsible and somebody's innocent. Otherwise it [justice] makes no sense at all.

When I say "I," I mean a thing absolutely unique, not to be confused with any other.

When you put a man and a woman together, there are some things they simply have to do. They embrace, they warm each other. All the rest is dead and empty.

Killing time is the chief end of our society.

The spontaneity of slaps is sincerity, whereas the ceremonial of caresses is largely convention.

Nature is honest, we aren't; we embalm our dead.

To believe in God is to know that all the rules will be fair, and that there will be wonderful surprises.

Sisterly love is, of all sentiments, the most abstract. Nature does not grant it any functions.

Is not man himself the most unsettled of all the creatures of the earth? What is this trembling sensation that is intensified with each ascending step in the natural order?

We play make believe, pretend to take ourselves and each other seriously--to love each other, hate each other--but then--it isn't true. It isn't true, we don't care at all!

When you want to believe in something, you also have to believe in everything that's necessary for believing in it.

We cannot bear to regard ourselves simply as playthings of blind chance, we cannot admit to feeling ourselves abandoned.