Children usually do not blame themselves for getting lost.

Everything becomes so problematic because of basic faults: from a discontent with myself.

Things are not as we would like them to be. There is only one way to deal with it, namely to try and be all right oneself.

Create around one at least a small circle where matters are arranged as one wants them to be.

We are imprisoned in the realm of life, like a sailor on his tiny boat, on an infinite ocean.

We live trapped, between the churned-up and examined past and a future that waits for our work.

The horrors of war, pale beside the loss of a mother