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

Only one thing bothered me: at this very moment, as they say, of inexplicable bliss there would be a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach and my abdomen would be assailed by a melancholy, cold shivering. In the end I couldn't abide such happiness and ran away.

Every man's happiness is built on the unhappi-ness of another.

I'm through with Tolstoy. He has ceased to exist for me.... If I eat a bowl of soup and like it, I know by that fact alone and with absolute certainty that Tolstoy will find it bad, and vice versa.

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

To desire and expect nothing for oneself and to have profound sympathy for others is genuine holiness.

He was the soul of politeness to everyone -- to some with a hint of aversion, to others with a hint of respect.