From outside one will always triumphantly impress theories upon the world and then fall straight into the ditch one has dug, but only from inside will one keep oneself and the world quiet and true.

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

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.

People who walk across dark bridges, past saints, with dim, small lights. Clouds which move across gray skies past churches with towers darkened in the dusk. One who leans against granite railing gazing into the evening waters, His hands resting on old stones.

They say ignorance is bliss.... they're wrong

Writing is a sweet, wonderful reward.

Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.