I admire the courage and wisdom of Socrates in everything he did, said--and did not say.

The living is a species of the dead; and not a very attractive one.

The real world is much smaller than the imaginary

Quidquid luce fuit tenebris agit: but also the other way around. What we experience in dreams, so long as we experience it frequently, is in the end just as much a part of the total economy of our soul as anything we "really" experience: because of it we are richer or poorer, are sensitive to one need more or less, and are eventually guided a little by our dream-habits in broad daylight and even in the most cheerful moments occupying our waking spirit.

Character is determined more by the lack of certain experiences than by those one has had.

What makes us heroic?--Confronting simultaneously our supreme suffering and our supreme hope.

No more fiction, for now we calculate; but that we may calculate, we had to make fiction first.