Some other memories of the funeral have stuck in my mind. The old boy’s face, for instance, when he caught up with us for the last time, just outside the village. His eyes were streaming with tears, of exhaustion or distress, or both together. But because of the wrinkles they couldn’t flow down. They spread out, crisscrossed, and formed a smooth gloss on the old, worn face.

There is the good and the bad, the great and the low, the just and the unjust. I swear to you that all that will never change.

It is necessary to fall in love... if only to provide an alibi for all the random despair you are going to feel anyway.

Absolute justice is achieved by the suppression of all contradiction, therefore it destroys freedom.

But too many people now climb onto the cross merely to be seen from a greater distance, even if they have to trample somewhat on the one who has been there so long.

True artists scorn nothing.

There is scarcely any passion without struggle.