For mountain and stream, tree and leaf, root and blossom, every form in nature is echoed in us and originates in the soul whose being is eternity and is hidden from us but none the less gives itself to us for the most part in the power of love and creation.

If I know what love is, it is because of you.

Did all this make sense?

I want to learn from myself, want to be my student, want to get to know myself, the secret of Siddhartha.

For what I always hated and detested and cursed above all things was this contentment, this healthiness and comfort, this carefully preserved optimism of the middle classes, this fat and prosperous brood of mediocrity.

There is, so I believe, in the essence of everything, something that we cannot call learning. There is, my friend, only a knowledge - that is everywhere.

I do want more. I am not content with being happy. I was not made for it. It is not my destiny. My destiny is the opposite.