Not he is great who can alter matter, but he who can alter my state of mind.
We talk so abstractly about poetry because all of us are usually bad poets.
What, then is truth?... Truths are illusions about which one has forgotten that this is what they are.
Pardon me, my friends, I have ventured to paint my happiness on the wall.
What really raises one's indignation against suffering is not suffering intrinsically, but the senselessness of suffering
There is one thing one has to have either a soul that is cheerful by nature, or a soul made cheerful by work, love, art, and knowledge.