After another moment's silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.

But,' I reminded myself, 'it's common knowledge that life isn't worth living, anyhow.

I knew a pure heart who refused tot be mistrustful.... He had written at his doorstep: "From wherever you are, enter and be welcome". Who do you think responded to this lovely invitation? The militia, who made themselves at home and gutted him.

There is not a single true work of art that has not in the end added to the inner freedom insight and life of each person who has known and loved it.

The role of the intellectual cannot be to excuse the violence of one side and condemn that of the other.

Big tears of frustration and exhaustion were streaming down his cheeks. But because of all the wrinkles, they weren't dripping off. They spread out and ran together again, leaving a watery film over his ruined face.

One recognizes one's course by discovering the paths that stray from it.