Hate is always a clash between our spirit and someone else's body.

When writing poetry, it is not that produces a bright idea, but the bright idea that kindles the fire of.

The only joy in the world is to begin.

Writing is a fine thing, because it combines the two pleasures of talking to yourself and talking to a crowd.

It is not that the child lives in a world of imagination, but that the child within us survives and starts into life only at rare moments of recollection, which makes us believe, and it is not true, that, as children, we were imaginative?

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

There is only one pleasure-that of being alive. All the rest is misery.