I think it is impossible for human minds to think of Death as a final, irrevocable end to life.

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

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

Death does not frighten me, but dying obscurely and above all uselessly does.

I feel alone, free, and detached from everything in the world, and I'm happy.

But the vagrant owns the whole vast earth that ends only at the nonexistent horizon, and his empire is an intangible one, for his domination and enjoyment of it are things of the spirit.

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.