Always there comes an hour when one is weary of one's work and devotion to duty, and all one craves for is a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart.

There is always a certain hour of the day and of the night when a man’s courage is at its lowest ebb, and it was that hour only that he feared.

There is no shame in preferring happiness.

And never have I felt so deeply at one and the same time so detached from myself and so present in the world.

But what does it mean, the plague? It's life, that's all.

Love is the kind of illness that does not spare the intelligent or the dull.

We spend our days in deliberating, and we end them without coming to any resolve.