However much you knock at nature's door, she will never answer you in comprehensible words.

I was afraid of looking into my heart...afraid of thinking seriously about anything...I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to admit to myself that I was not loved.

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.

Illness isn't the only thing that spoils the appetite.

You may live a long while with some people and be on friendly terms with them and never speak openly with them from your soul.

What a magnificent body, how I should like to see it on the dissecting table.

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.