Life is perhaps best regarded as a bad dream between two awakenings.

You said they had found the secret of happiness because they had never heard that love can be a sin.

Critics? I love every bone in their heads.

How thick the fog is. I can't see the road. All the people in the world could pass by and I would never know. I wish it was always that way. It's getting dark already. It will soon be night, thank goodness.

Suppose I was to tell you that it's just beauty that's calling me, the beauty of the far off and unknown, the mystery and spell which lures me, the need of freedom of great wide spaces, the joy of wandering on and on----in quest of the secret which is hidden over there----beyond the horizon?

We are where centuries only count as seconds, and after a thousand lives, our eyes begin to open.

Life is for each man a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.