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?

Solitude is independence.

You've never lived what you are thinking, and that isn't good. Only the ideas we actually live are of any value.

To recognize causes is to think, and through thought alone feelings become knowledge and are not lost, but become real and begin to mature.

Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.

I am in truth the Steppenwolf that I often call myself; that beast astray that finds neither home nor joy nor nourishment in a world that is strange and incomprehensible to him.

Often it is the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them.