Those are my enemies: they want to overthrow and to construct nothing themselves. They say: "All that is worthless"--and want to create no value themselves.

Books for general reading always smell bad; the odor of common people hangs around them.

The poet presents his thoughts festively, on the carriage of rhythm: usually because they could not walk.

Narrow souls I cannot abide; There's almost no good or evil inside

If you look long enough into the void, the void begins to look back through you.

Every word has its fragrance: there is a harmony and a disharmony of fragrances, and hence of words.

What we know oman today is limited precisely by the extent to which we have regarded him as a machine.