Time is the River on which the leaves of our thoughts are carried into oblivion.

The youth do not see the old. They are not programmed to see the old, who are cancelled, negated, wiped out.

I'll be pleased when I'm dead. That will let me off worrying about all these wars.

I am interested only in stretching myself, on living as fully as I can.

It is the mark of great people to treat trifles as trifles and important matters as important.

Little Tamar, forget the long ago. We are here and we are now, and that is all. We are making a new start.

The Freudians describe the conscious as a small lit area, all white, and the unconscious as a great dark marsh full of monsters. In their view, the monsters reach up, grab you by the ankles, and try to drag you down.