I don't know where my road is going, but I know that I walk better when I hold your hand.

How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception.

Happiness may have but one night, as glory but one day.

Each memorable verse of a true poet has two or three times the written content.

Reason may cure illusions, but not suffering.

[I]f you are truly a man, sure of yourself and confident of your strength, you may taste of life without fear and without reserve; you may be sad or joyous, deceived or respected; but be sure you are loved, for what matters the rest?

It was one of those somber evenings when the sighing of the wind resembles the moans of a dying man; a storm was brewing, and between the splashes of rain on the windows there was the silence of death. All nature suffers in such moments; the trees writhe in pain and twist their heads; the birds of the fields cower under the bushes; the streets of cities are deserted.