This life of ours...human life is like a flower gloriously blooming in a meadow: along comes a goat, eats it up---no more flower.

My love is like a stone tied round my neck; it's dragging me down to the bottom; but I love my stone. I can't live without it.

There are plenty of good people, but only a very, very few are precise and disciplined.

To live simply to die is by no means amusing, but to live with the knowledge that you will die before your time, that's really is idiotic

People are far more sincere and good-humored at speeding their parting guests than on meeting them.

My holy of holies is the human body, health, intelligence, talent, inspiration, love, and absolute freedom--freedom from violence and falsehood, no matter how the last two manifest themselves.

What truth? You see where truth is, and where untruth is, but I seem to have lost my sight and see nothing. You boldly settle all important questions, but tell me, dear, isn't it because you're young, because you haven't had time to suffer till you settled a single one of your questions? You boldly look forward, isn't it because you cannot foresee or expect anything terrible, because so far life has been hidden from your young eyes? You are bolder, more honest, deeper than we are, but think only, be just a little magnanimous, and have mercy on me.