My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out.
No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse.
I don't want to die. Damn death. Long live life.
if it is thus, I ask emphatically whence comes this thusness.
When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flown at it to hold it back from flight.
The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.