My bits of time play with eternity.
He who has made a thousand things and he who has made none, both feel the same desire: to make something.
Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists.
The real "it is well" is something I say from the ground, having fallen.
The fear of separation is all that unites.
Yes, one must suffer, even in vain, so as not to have lived in vain.