I was not given to looking at life in a rosy light.

School is a foretaste of life.

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.

The stream of time sweeps away errors, and leaves the truth for the inheritance of humanity.

Dostoevsky preaches the morality of the pariah, the morality of the slave.

When I was a little boy I did not, of course, trouble much about my appearance.

My father, though, could run very much faster. It was impossible to compete with him on the grass. But it was astonishing how slow old people were. Some of them could not run up a hill and called it trying to climb stairs.