For who expects nothing, all that comes is grateful

Between me and life is a faint glass. No matter how sharply I see and understand life, I cannot touch it.

Tomorrow I too – this feeling and thinking soul, the universe I am to myself – yes, tomorrow I too will be someone who no longer walks these streets, someone others will evoke with a vague: 'I wonder what's become of him?” And everything I do, everything I feel, everything I experience, will be just one less passer-by on the daily streets of some city or other.

Success consists in being successful, not in having potential for success. Any wide piece of ground is the potential site of a palace, but there's no palace till it's built.

Never read a book to the end, nor even in sequence and without skipping.

But do we really live? To live without knowing what life is - is that living?

The chill of what I won't feel gnaws at my present heart.