His face was very heavily creased, and into each crease he had tucked some worry or other, so that it wasn't really his face any longer, but more like a tree that had nests of birds in all of the branches. He had to struggle constantly to manage it and always looked worn out from the effort.

We none of us find as much kindness in this world as we should.

How many times already had I encountered the painful lesson that although we may wish for the barb to be pulled from our flesh, it leaves a welt that doesn't heal?

I stumbled out into the courtyard to try to flee my misery, but of course we can never flee the misery that is within us.

Memoirs give the knowledge about the author and his environment. They are different from biography. Memoirs do not get ahead, and the man who writes a biography looks at his future like at a very simple thing.

The prettiest of them all is a girl who is pretty on the inside.

Of course, a sign doesn't mean anything unless you know how to interpret it.