If we understood the enigmas of life there would be no need for art.
At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman.
One always has exaggerated ideas about what one doesn't know.
I have never been able to renounce the light, the pleasure of being, and the freedom in which I grew up.
Thus, in a middle course between these heights and depths, they drifted through life rather than lived, the prey of aimless days and sterile memories, like wandering shadows that could have acquired substance only by consenting to root themselves in the solid earth of their distress.
She was waiting, but she didn't know for what. She was aware only of her solitude, and of the penetrating cold, and of a greater weight in the region of her heart.