Whoever thought that he had understood something of me had merely construed something out of me, after his own image.

When somebody dies we usually need reasons for consolation, not so much to alleviate our pain as to excuse ourselves for so readily feeling consoled.

What makes one heroic? - Going out to meet at the same time one's highest suffering and one's highest hope.

Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better even of their blunders.

In the end one only experiences oneself.

It is not in our hands to prevent our birth; but we can correct this mistake - for in some cases it is a mistake.

He who denies himself much in great matters will readily indulge himself in small things.