The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world.

Quote by Georg Buchner

Topics: Georg Buchner Quotes

Dying people often become childish.

Dying people often become childish.

The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great...

The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great...

The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom.

The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom.

We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces.

We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces.

The statue of Freedom has not been cast yet, the furnace is hot, we can...

The statue of Freedom has not been cast yet, the furnace is hot, we can...

Murder begins where self-defense ends.

Murder begins where self-defense ends.

That is a long word: forever!

That is a long word: forever!

You women could make someone fall in love even with a lie.

You women could make someone fall in love even with a lie.

They say in the grave there is peace, and peace and the grave are one...

They say in the grave there is peace, and peace and the grave are one...

Whoever finishes a revolution only halfway, digs his own grave.

Whoever finishes a revolution only halfway, digs his own grave.

The life of the wealthy is one long Sunday.

The life of the wealthy is one long Sunday.

How many women does one need to sing the scale of love all the way...

How many women does one need to sing the scale of love all the way...

Revolution is like Saturn, it devours its own children.

Revolution is like Saturn, it devours its own children.

Peace to the shacks! War on the palaces!

Peace to the shacks! War on the palaces!

We are always on stage, even when we are stabbed in earnest at the end.

We are always on stage, even when we are stabbed in earnest at the end.

Love is a peculiar thing.

Love is a peculiar thing.

Your words smell of corpses.

Your words smell of corpses.

There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined.

There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined.

The strides of humanity are slow, they can only be counted in centuries.

The strides of humanity are slow, they can only be counted in centuries.

Death is the most blessed dream.

Death is the most blessed dream.