I live like a Hottentot. I cannot exchange one sensible word with anyone.
Behind me the branches of a wasted and sterile existence are cracking.
The impressions of the spriritual experiences gave my future life its form and content.
An operetta is simply a small and gay opera.
Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.
It's not just a question of conquering a summit previously unknown, but of tracing, step by step, a new pathway to it.