When the body sinks into death, the essence of man is revealed. Man is a knot, a web, a mesh into which relationships are tied. Only those relationships matter. The body is an old crock that nobody will miss. I have never known a man to think of himself when dying. Never.

A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.

The time for action is now. It's never too late to do something.

Intelligence is not creative; judgment is not creative. If a sculptor is nothing but skill and mind, his hands will be without genius.

To forget a friend is sad. Not every one has had a friend. And if I forget him, I may become like the grown−ups who are no longer interested in anything but figures.

The machine does not isolate man from the great problems of nature but plunges him more deeply into them.

He who would travel happy must travel lite.