Love has as few problems as a motor car. The only problems are the driver, the passengers, and the road.

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.

Every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.

A stair not worn hollow by footsteps is, regarded from its own point of view, only a boring something made of wood.

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

Believing means liberating the indestructible element in oneself, or, more accurately, liberating oneself, or, more accurately, being indestructible, or, more accurately, being.

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.