Sadness is almost never anything but a form of fatigue.

There are many things that seem impossible only so long as one does not attempt them.

To understand is nothing, but to be understood-that is the problem and the source of anguish. The soul throbs and would have the other know-but can not and feels isolated. Then come gestures, words, awkward explanations and material symbols for imponderable outbursts of feeling-and the soul despairs.

A desire for truth is by no means a need for certitude and it would be unwise to confuse one with the other.

The itch is a mean, unconfessable, ridiculous malady; one can pity someone who is suffering ; someone who wants to scratch himself makes one laugh.

Nothing is more fatal to happiness than the remembrance of happiness.

The less intelligent the white man is, the more stupid he thinks the black.