The one way of tolerating existence is to lose oneself in literature as in a perpetual orgy.

Doubt … is an illness that comes from knowledge and leads to madness.

It is an excellent habit to look at things as so many symbols.

I go dreaming into the future, where I see nothing, nothing. I have no plans, no idea, no project, and, what is worse, no ambition. Something – the eternal ‘what’s the use?’ – sets its bronze barrier across every avenue that I open up in the realm of hypothesis.

If you knew all the dreams I've dreamed!

I have patience in all things - as far as the antechamber.

But, in her life, nothing was going to happen. Such was the will of God! The future was a dark corridor, and at the far end the door was bolted.