What was time itself but the bloom, the sheath enfolding experience? Within time, and with time alone, there was life - the gleam, the quiver, the heartbeat, the immeasurable joy and anguish of being.

What I hated even more than the conflict was the lurid spectacle of a world of unreason.

So long as one is able to pose one has still much to learn about suffering.

No idea is so antiquated that it was not once modern. No idea is so modern that it will not someday be antiquated.

Pessimism is the affectation of youth, the reality of age.

Nothing in life is so hard that you can't make it easier by the way you take it.

The age is a vociferous one, and no prophet is without honor who is able to strike an attitude and to speak loud enough to make himself heard.