I sometimes confuse myself with the little I know.

Children were strangers you loved because you could love. If they gave back love when they were grown you were ahead of the game.

The purpose of freedom is to create it for others.

No use fanning up hot coals when you have to walk across them.

Space plus whatever you feel equals more whatever you feel, marvelous for happiness, God save you otherwise.

A man is an island in the only sense that matters, not an easy way to be. We live in mystery, a cosmos of separate lonely bodies, men, insects, stars. It is all loneliness and men know it best.

A man has to construct, invent, his freedom.