That's what children are for—that their parents may not be bored.

I believe love produces a certain flowering of the whole personality which nothing else can achieve.

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.

Go forward while you can, but if your strength fails you, sit down near the road and gaze without anger or envy at those who pass by. They don't have far to go, either.

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.

If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.

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