Anyone who renounces the world must love all men, for he renounces their world too. He thus begins to have some inkling of the true nature of man, which cannot but be loved, always assuming that one is its peer.

Because of impatience we were driven out [of Paradise]; because of impatience we cannot return.

You're not cross with me, though?" he said. She pulled her hand away and answered, "No, no, I'm never cross with anyone.

The purpose of a story is to be an axe that breaks up the ice within us.

This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.

Don Quixote's misfortune is not his imagination, but Sancho Panza.

When one has once accepted and absorbed Evil, it no longer demands to be believed.