A picture of my existence... would show a useless wooden stake covered in snow... stuck loosely at a slant in the ground in a ploughed field on the edge of a vast open plain on a dark winter night.

What's happened to me,' he thought. It was no dream.

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

Anything that has real and lasting value is always a gift from within.

A stair not worn hollow by footsteps is, regarded from its own point of view, only a boring something made of wood.

The various forms of despair at the various stations on the road.

Work as joy, inaccessible to the psychologists.