In those days I learned that nothing is more frightening than a hero who lives to tell his story, to tell what all those who fell at his side will never be able to tell.

I think you judge yourself too severely, a quality that always distinguishes people of true worth.

While you're working, you don't have to look life in the eye.

There are people you remember and people you dream of.

There are worse prisons than words.

Coincidences are the scars of fate.

Does the madman know he is mad? Or are the madmen those who insist o. Convincing him of his unreason in order to safeguard their own idea of reality?