A lawyer is a person who writes a 10,000-word document and calls it a "brief."

Human nature, essentially changeable, as unstable as the dust, can endure no restraint; if it binds itself it soon begins to tear madly at its bonds, until it rends everything asunder, the wall, the bonds, and its very self.

In me, by myself, without human relationship, there are no visible lies. The limited circle is pure.

No one can crave what truly harms him.

The existence of the writer is an argument against the existence of the soul, for the soul has obviously taken flight from the real ego, but not improved itself, only become a writer.

In a way, I was safe writing

How can one take delight in the world unless one flees to it for refuge?