Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me.

But the conceited man did not hear him. Conceited people never hear anything but praise.

Nobody grasped you by the shoulder while there was still time. Now the clay of which you were shaped has dried and hardened, and naught in you will ever awaken the sleeping musician, the poet, the asronomer that possibly inhabited you in the beginning.

The wind in the grain is the caress to the spouse; it is the hand of peace stroking her hair.

Although human life is priceless, we always act as if something had an even greater price than life... but what is that something?

And at night I love to listen to the stars. It is like five hundred million little bells.

Transport of the mails, transport of the human voice, transport of flickering pictures-in this century as in others our highest accomplishments still have the single aim of bringing men together.