But I did not find any positive inspiration in my studies until I approached my nineteenth year.
The appalling thing about war is that it kills all love of truth.
Dostoevsky preaches the morality of the pariah, the morality of the slave.
A love for humanity came over me, and watered and fertilised the fields of my inner world which had been lying fallow, and this love of humanity vented itself in a vast compassion.
Being gifted needs courage.
I admired in others the strength that I lacked myself.