Just because your doctor has a name for your condition, doesn't mean he knows what it is.

In a certain sense you deny the existence of this world. You explain life as a state of rest, a state of rest in motion.

What am I doing here in this endless winter?

Idleness is the beginning of all vice, the crown of all virtues.

A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.

Evil is whatever distracts.

Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one’s ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.