We are, all of us, poor wretches, and those who prefer not to understand this are even worse off than the rest of us.

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.

We are, all of us, poor wretches, and those who prefer not to understand this are even worse off than the rest of us.

The way I see it, there is no greater spiritual beauty than fanaticism, of a sort so sincere it can only end in martyrdom.

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

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.