one pities most those who loved, and still died. Only those who love, dread death.

... the world was beautiful, but nobody looked at it except tourists. ... a kind of perfection of existence was always close at hand, and no one reached for it.

It is possible to wish so greatly for the unattained that in time you believe it has been won - indeed, you can even remember the winning of it.

It is less difficult to look beyond ... and foretell the future, than to look back and remember what has already gone before.

Bad enough to make mistakes, without going ahead and marrying them.

our deeds have even less substance than we ourselves.

one pities most those who loved, and still died. Only those who love, dread death.