Love isn't actually a feeling at all--it's an illness, a certain condition of body and soul.... Usually it takes possession of someone without his permission, all of a sudden, against his will--just like cholera or a fever.

Even nightingales can’t be fed on fairy tales.

Belonging to oneself--the whole essence of life lies in that.

Everyone needs help from everyone else.

So long as one's just dreaming about what to do, one can soar like an eagle and move mountains, it seems, but as soon as one starts doing it one gets worn out and tired.

I don't see why it's impossible to express everything that's on one's mind.

I only know that I feel tired, antiquated; I feel as though I had been living a long, long time.