My grandfather used to say: Life is astoundingly short. To me, looking back over it, life seems so foreshortened that I scarcely understand, for instance, how a young man can decide to ride over to the next village without being afraid that -not to mention accidents- even the span of a normal happy life may fall far short of the time needed for such a journey.

I do not see the world at all; I invent it.

Every dog has like me the impulse to question, and I have like every dog the impulse not to answer.

When one has once accepted and absorbed Evil, it no longer demands to be believed.

The cruelty of death lies in the fact that it brings the real sorrow of the end, but not the end. The greatest cruelty of death: an apparent end causes a real sorrow. Our salvation is death, but not this one.

The door could not be heard slamming; they had probably left it open, as is the custom in homes where a great misfortune has occurred.

If you find someone who makes you smile, who checks up on you often to see if you're okay. Who watches out or you and wants the best for you. Who loves and respects you. Don't let them go. People like that are hard to find.