If most of us remain ignorant of ourselves, it is because self-knowledge is painful and we prefer the pleasures of illusion.

Every gain made by individuals or societies is almost instantly taken for granted. The luminous ceiling toward which we raise our longing eyes becomes, when we have climbed to the next floor, a stretch of disregarded linoleum beneath our feet.

Good is a product of the ethical and spiritual artistry of individuals; it cannot be mass-produced.

I wanted to change the world. But I have found that the only thing one can be sure of changing is oneself.

The pleasures of ignorance are as great, in their way, as the pleasures of knowledge.

But the quiet grows and grows. Beautifully and unbearably.

The snapshots had become almost as dim as memories.