And that wreched creature without hands or feet, who had to be put to bed and fed like a child, that pitiable remnant of a man, whose almost vanished life was nothing more than one scream of pain, cried out in furious indignation: 'What a fool one must be to go and kill oneself!' " - 'Joy of Life

Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

Governments are suspicious of literature because it is a force that eludes them.

If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.

A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.

I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.

If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.