Every individual is at once the beneficiary and the victim of the linguistic tradition into which he has been born.

We live together, we act on, and react to one another; but always, and in all circumstances, we are by ourselves.

Art is one of the means whereby man seeks to redeem a life which is experienced as chaotic, senseless, and largely evil.

One cubic centimeter cures ten gloomy sentiments.

Can you say something about nothing?

The condition of being forgiven is self-abandonment. The proud man prefers self-reproach, however painful --because the reproached self isn't abandoned; it remains intact.

Words form the thread on which we string our experiences. [Therefore be careful how you interpret your life. Don't think or speak negatively lest your subconscious and others take you at your word and you are hung by your own tongue!]