What sets men at variance is but the treachery of language, for always they desire the same things.

Life has meaning only if one barters it day by day for something other than itself.

The essential things in life are seen, not with the eyes but with the heart.

What was my body to me? A kind of flunkey in my service. Let but my anger wax hot, my love grow exalted, my hatred collect in me, and that boasted solidarity between me and my body was gone.

What sets men at variance is but the treachery of language, for always they desire the same things.

Sorrow is one of the vibrations that prove the fact of living.

There is no hope of joy except in human relations.