Was it not his Self, his small, fearful and proud Self, with which he had wrestled for so many years, but which had always conquered him again, which appeared each time again and again, which robbed him of happiness and filled him with fear?

I was out of my bed in one second, trembling with excitement, and I dashed to the door and into the adjoining room, where I could watch the streets below from the windows.

The day had gone by just as days go by. I had killed it in accordance with my primitive and retiring way of life.

Only within yourself exists that other reality for which you long.

I believe that I am not responsible for the meaningfulness or meaninglessness of life, but that I am responsible for what I do with the life I've got.

Each man's life represents a road toward himself.

A magic dwells in each beginning, protecting us, telling us how to live.