All the suns labor to kindle your flame and a microbe puts it out.
There are sufferings that have lost their memory and do not remember why they are suffering.
No one is a light unto himself, not even the sun.
My father, when he went, made my childhood a gift of a half a century.
Whatever I take, I take too much or too little; I do not take the exact amount. The exact amount is no use to me.
He who makes a paradise of his bread makes a hell of his hunger.