They entered there into the unconscious philosophy of the town; that life was an incomprehensible marvel, since it was incessantly wasted and spent, yet none the less it lasted and endured 'like the bridge on the Drina'.

Searching for what I need, and I don't even know precisely what that is, I was going from a man to a man, and I saw that all of them together have less than me who has nothing, and that I left to each of them a bit of that what I don't have and I've been searching for.

What can and doesn't have to be always, at the end, surrenders to something that has to be.

Sadness is also a kind of defence.

One shouldn't be afraid of the humans. Well, I am not afraid of the humans, but of what is inhuman in them.

That wild beast which lives in man and does not dare to show itself until the barriers of law and custom have been removed, was now set free.

Forgetfulness heals everything and song is the most beautiful manner of forgetting, for in song man feels only what he loves.