Life itself is the real and most miraculous miracle of all. If one had never before seen a human hand and were suddenly presented for the first time with this strange and wonderful thing, what a miracle, what a magnificently shocking and inexplicable and mysterious thing it would be.

If we could wake each morning with no memory of living before we went to sleep, we might arrive at a faultless day.

There may always be another reality to make fiction of the truth we think we've arrived at.

Life is a hypocrite if I can't live the way it moves me.

How can we be scrupulous In a life which, from birth onwards, is so determined To wring us dry of any serenity at all?

One day I shall burst my bud of calm and blossom into hysteria.

How can a man learn navigation Where there's no rudder?