You know...my flower...I'm responsible for her. And she's so weak! And so naive. She has four ridiculous thorns to defend her against the world.

Defeat is a thing of weariness, of incoherence, of boredom, and above all futility.

Defeat may prove to have been the only path to resurrection, despite its ugliness.

Sometimes, there is no harm in putting off a piece of work until another day.

To grasp the meaning of the world of today we use a language created to express the world of yesterday. The life of the past seems to us nearer our true natures, but only for the reason that it is nearer our language.

When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes'?

Are wars... anything but the means whereby a nation's problems are set, where creation is stimulated - there you have adventure. But there is no adventure in heads-or-tails, in betting that the toss will come out of life or death. War is not an adventure. It is a disease. It is like typhus.