When a woman isn't beautiful, people always say, 'You have lovely eyes, you have lovely hair.'

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.

He who desires nothing, hopes for nothing, and is afraid of nothing, cannot be an artist.

He is no longer a city dweller who has even once in his life caught a ruff or seen how, on clear and cool autumn days, flocks of migrating thrushes drift over a village. Until his death he will be drawn to freedom.

Please, understand that your life is bad and dreary!

He had two lives: one, open, seen and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And through some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people.

I have no will of my own. Never did. Limp and lily-livered, I always obey - is it possible that's attractive to women?