Passion, that thing of beauty, that flowering without roots, has to be born, live and die without reason.
To live is often only to have a choice of several despairs.
a personality devoted uniquely to its own development absorbs other lives.
Without imagination, nothing is dangerous.
All the goodness, beauty, and perfection of a human being belong to the one who knows how to recognize these qualities.
We do not yet know each other because we have not yet dared to be silent together.