One must use the weapons one finds in one's path.

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 am not afraid of death, but would not want to die in some obscure or pointless 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.

Life on the open road is liberty... to be alone, to have few needs, to be unknown, everywhere a foreigner and at home, and to walk grandly and solitarily in conquest of the world.

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

From every ruin, life springs up again and everything that dies is born again.