Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.

The true word leads; the untrue misleads.

The Fathers of the Church were not afraid to go out into the desert because they had a richness in their hearts. But we, with richness all around us, are afraid, because the desert is in our hearts.

I have no memory for things I have learned, nor things I have read, nor things experienced or heard, neither for people nor events; I feel that I have experienced nothing, learned nothing, that I actually know less than the average schoolboy, and that what I do know is superficial, and that every second question is beyond me. I am incapable of thinking deliberately; my thoughts run into a wall. I can grasp the essence of things in isolation, but I am quite incapable of coherent, unbroken thinking. I can't even tell a story properly; in fact, I can scarcely talk.

The Bible is a sanctum; the world, sputum.

We all have wings, but they have not been of any avail to us and if we could tear them off, we would do so.

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