What for centuries raised man above the beast is not the cudgel but the irresistible power of unarmed truth.

As in an explosion, I would erupt with all the wonderful things I saw and understood in this world.

Our evenings are farewells. Our parties are testaments. So that the secret stream of suffering. May warm the cold of life.

An unshared happiness is not happiness.

It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned.

As before the collapse, the setting sun brushed the tiles, brought out the warm brown glow on the wallpaper, and hung the shadow of the birch on the wall as if it were a woman's scarf.

Oh, how one wishes sometimes to escape from the meaningless dullness of human eloquence, from all those sublime phrases, to take refuge in nature, apparently so inarticulate, or in the wordlessness of long, grinding labor, of sound sleep, of true music, or of a human understanding rendered speechless by emotion!