In theory there is a possibility of perfect happiness: To believe in the indestructible element within one, and not to strive towards it.

I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.

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

Some books seem like a key to unfamiliar rooms in one’s own castle.

I stand on the end platform of the tram and am completely unsure of my footing in this world, in this town, in my family. Not even casually could I indicate any claims that I might rightly advance in any direction. I have not even any defense to offer for standing on this platform, holding on to this strap, letting myself be carried along by this tram, nor for the people who give way to the tram or walk quietly along or stand gazing into shop windows. Nobody asks me to put up a defense, indeed, but that is irrelevant.

Humility provides everyone, even him who despairs in solitude, with the strongest relationship to his fellow man.

It is often safer to be in chains than to be free.