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

That a literature in our time is living is shown in that way that it debates problems.

But I did not find any positive inspiration in my studies until I approached my nineteenth year.

Poor is the power of the lead that becomes bullets compared to the power of the hot metal that becomes types.

He who does not understand a joke, he does not understand Danish.

I was not afraid of what I did not like. To overcome dislike of a thing often satisfied one's feeling of honour.

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.