Let there be an end ... of all this welter of pity, which is only self-pity reflected onto some obvious surface.

If only we could live two lives: the first in which to make one's mistakes, and the second in which to profit by them.

And if tonight my soul may find her peace in sleep, and sink in good oblivion, and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.

Now go away then, and leave me alone. I don't want any more of your meretricious persiflage.

The day of the absolute is over, and we're in for the strange gods once more.

Was his life nothing? Had he nothing to show, no work? He did not count his work, anyone could have done it. What had he known, but the long, marital embrace with his wife. Curious, that this was what his life amounted to! At any rate, it was something, it was eternal. He would say so to anybody, and be proud of it. He lay with his wife in his arms, and she was still his fulfillment, just the same as ever. And that was the be-all and the end-all. Yes, and he was proud of it.

I want us to be together without bothering about ourselves- to be really together because we ARE together, as if it were a phenomenon, not a thing we have to maintain by our own effort.