Mad is the man who is forever gritting his teeth against that granite block, complete and changeless, of the past.

Here is my secret. It is very simple: one sees well only with the heart. The essential is invisible to the eyes.

Of what worth are convictions that bring not suffering?

What torments me is not the humps nor hollows nor the ugliness. It is the sight, a little bit in all these men, of Mozart murdered.

He who must travel happily must travel light.

All of us have had the experience of a sudden joy that came when nothing in the world had forewarned us of its coming - a joy so thrilling that if it was born of misery we remembered even the misery with tenderness.

I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things.