Association with human beings lures one into self-observation.

If there is a transmigration of souls then I am not yet on the bottom rung. My life is a hesitation before birth.

I am always trying to convey something that can’t be conveyed, to explain something which is inexplicable, to tell about something I have in my bones, something which can be expressed only in the bones.

The history of the world, as it is written and handed down by word of mouth, often fails us completely; but man's intuitive capacity, though it often misleads, does lead, does not ever abandon one.

There will be no proof that I ever was a writer.

The dream reveals the reality which conception lags behind. That is the horror of life-the terror of art.

I won't give up the diary again. I must hold on here, it is the only place I can.