A nomad I was even when I was very small and would stare at the road, that white spellbinding road headed straight for the unknown ... a nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places.

To be alone is to be free, and freedom was the only happiness accessible to my nature.

For those who know the value of and exquisite taste of solitary freedom (for one is only free when alone), the act of leaving is the bravest and most beautiful of all.

I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.

One must never look for happiness: one meets it by the way.

While to live in the past and think of what was good and beautiful about it amounts to a sort of seasoning of the present, the perennial wait for tomorrow is bound to result in chronic discontent that poisons one's entire outlook.

The savage hatred I feel for crowds is getting worse, natural enemies that they are of imagination and of thought.