The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic.

A man fell in love with Jeanne, and she tried to love him. But she complained that he uttered such ordinary words, that he could never say the magic phrase which would open her being.

I know no joy as great as a moment of rushing into a new love, no ecstasy like that of a new love.

One may gain one truth at the expense of another.

Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat.

There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.

He was jealous of her future, and she of his past.