This morning, for the first time in a long time, the joy again of imagining a knife twisted in my heart.

Death confronts us not unlike the historical battle scene that hangs on the wall of the classroom. It is our task to obscure or quite obliterate the picture by our deeds while we are still in this world.

I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn't wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for?

Art is for the artist is only suffering through which he releases himself for further suffering.

There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe ... but not for us.

The relationship to one's fellow man is the relationship of prayer, the relationship to oneself is the relationship of striving; it is from prayer that one draws the strength for one's striving.

Some deny the existence of misery by pointing to the sun; he denies the existence of the sun by pointing to misery.