To be able to throw one's self away for the sake of a moment, to be able to sacrifice years for a woman's smile - that is happiness.
Hermann HesseHe lost his Self a thousand times and for days on end he dwelt in non-being. But although the paths took him away from Self, in the end they always led back to it. Although Siddhartha fled from the Self a thousand times, dwelt in nothing, dwelt in animal and stone, the return was inevitable; the hour was inevitable when he would again find himself in sunshine or in moonlight, in shadow or in rain, and was again Self and Siddhartha, again felt the torment of the onerous life cycle.
Hermann HesseLove is like death. It is fulfillment and an evening after which nothing more may follow.
Hermann Hesse