And when man faces destiny, destiny ends and man comes into his own.
The attempt to force human beings to despise themselves is what I call hell.
The thrill of creation which we experience which we experience when we see a masterpiece is not unlike the feeling of the artist who created it; such a work is a fragment of the world which he has annexed and which belongs to him alone.
He who has dreamed for long resembles his dream.
War puts its questions stupidly, peace mysteriously.
There's no such thing as a grown up person.