And though I suffer for you, yet it eases my heart to suffer for you.

For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments.

Speak of a wolf and you see his tail!

To love is to suffer and there can be no love otherwise.

But I always liked side-paths, little dark back-alleys behind the main road- there one finds adventures and surprises, and precious metal in the dirt.

We are born dead, and we are becoming more and more contented with our condition. We are acquiring the taste for it.

When . . . in the course of all these thousands of years has man ever acted in accordance with his own interests?