Men always talk about the most important things to perfect strangers. In the perfect stranger we perceive man himself; the image of a God is not disguised by resemblances to an uncle or doubts of wisdom of a mustache.

The fatal metaphor of progress, which means leaving things behind us, has utterly obscured the real idea of growth, which means leaving things inside us.

There are some desires that are not desirable.

The more truly we can see life as a fairytale, the more clearly the tale resolves itself into war with the dragon who is wasting fairyland.

A man cannot deserve adventures; he cannot earn dragons and hippogriffs.

That young man with the long, auburn hair and the impudent face - that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem.

There is one thing which gives radiance to everything. It is the idea of something around the corner.