How pathetically scanty my self-knowledge is compared with, say, my knowledge of my room. There is no such thing as observation of the inner world, as there is of the outer world.

Anybody who preserves the ability to recognize beauty will never get old.

One can disintegrate the world by means of very strong light. For weak eyes the world becomes solid, for still weaker eyes it seems to develop fists, for eyes weaker still it becomes shamefaced and smashes anyone who dares to gaze upon it.

But questions that don’t answer themselves at the very moment of their asking are never answered.

A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.

What I write is different from what I say, what I say is different from what I think, what I think is different from what I ought to think and so it goes further into the deepest darkness.

One tells as few lies as possible only by telling as few lies as possible, and not by having the least possible opportunity to do so.