He realised, more vividly than ever before, that art had two constant, two unending preoccupations: it is always meditating upon death and it is always thereby creating life.

How wonderful to be alive, he thought. But why does it always hurt?

Mother Russia is on the move, she can't stand still, she's restless and can't find rest, she's talking and she can't stop.

It was not until after the coming of Christ that time and humans could breathe freely. It was not until after him that people began to live toward the future. Humans do not die in a ditch like a dog-but at home in history, while the work toward the conquest of death is in full swing; they die sharing in this work.

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!

Salvation lies not in the faithfulness to forms, but in the liberation from them.

Surprise is the greatest gift which life can grant us.