All sins have their origin in a sense of inferiority otherwise called ambition.

Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

Lessons are not given, they are taken.

You don't remember days, you remember moments.

Great lovers will always be unhappy, because, for them, love is of supreme importance. Consequently they demand of their beloved the same intensity of thought as they have for her, otherwise they feel betrayed.

The search for a new personality is futile; what is fruitful is the interest the old personality can take in new activities.

All sins have their origin in a sense of inferiority otherwise called ambition.