Tears do not burn except in solitude.
Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death!
We are afraid of the enormity of the possible.
True confessions are written with tears only. But my tears would drown the world, as my inner fire would reduce it to ashes.
True moral elegance consists in the art of disguising one's victories as defeats.
Ideas should be neutral. But man animates them with his passions and folly. Impure and turned into beliefs, they take on the appearance of reality. The passage from logic is consummated. Thus are born ideologies, doctrines, and bloody farce.