It is depressing to hear the unfortunate or dying man jest.

If our life has a meaning, an aim, it has nothing to do with our personal happiness, but something wiser and greater.

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

Fine. Since the tea is not forthcoming, let's have a philosophical conversation.

If an intelligent, educated, and healthy man begins to complain of his lot and go down-hill, there is nothing for him to do but to go on down until he reaches the bottom--there is no hope for him. Where could my salvation come from? How can I save myself? I cannot drink, because it makes my head ache. I never could write bad poetry. I cannot pray for strength and see anything lofty in the languor of my soul. Laziness is laziness and weakness weakness. I can find no other names for them. I am lost, I am lost; there is no doubt of that.

There will come a time when everybody will know why, for what purpose, there is all this suffering, and there will be no more mysteries. But now we must live ... we must work, just work!

I've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.