Only the children know what they are looking for.

You see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.

No individual is isolated. He who is sad, saddens others.

I don't understand these people anymore, that travel the commuter-trains to their dormitory towns. These people that call themselves human, but, by a pressure they do not feel, are forced to do their work like ants. With what do they fill their time when they are free of work on their silly little Sundays? I am very fortunate in my profession. I feel like a farmer, with the airstrips as my fields. Those that have once tasted this kind of fare will not forget it ever. Not so, my friends?

You become responsible for a long time for what you've tamed.

Perfection is not when there is no more to add, but no more to take away.

It is the missed opportunity that counts, and in a love that vainly yearns from behind prison bars you have perchance the love supreme.