However passionate, sinning, and rebellious the heart hidden in the tomb, the flowers growing over it peep serenely at us with their innocent eyes; they tell us not of eternal peace alone, of that great peace of "indifferent" nature: they tell us, too, of eternal reconciliation and of life without end.

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

Nature cares nothing for logic, our human logic: she has her own, which we do not recognize and do not acknowledge until we are crushed under its wheel

I was as happy as a fish in water, and I could have stayed in that room for ever, have never left that place.

Each individual is more or less dimly aware of his significance, is aware that he's something innately superior, something eternal--and lives, is obligated to live, in the moment and for the moment.

Who among us has the strength to oppose petty egoism, those petty good feelings, pity and remorse?

Death's an old joke, but each individual encounters it anew.