When I was young, I expected from people more than they could give: neverending friendship and constant excitement. Now I expect less than they can actually can give: to stay close silently. And their feelings, friendship, noble deeds always seem like a miracle to me: a true grace.

I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints.

Where there is no hope, it is incumbent on us to invent it.

When the body is sad, the heart languishes.

No matter what cause one defends, it will suffer permanent disgrace if one resorts to blind attacks on crowds of innocent people.

Morality, when formal, devours.

Forever I shall be a stranger to myself. In psychology as in logic, there are truths but no truth.