Listen, my friend, there are two races of beings. The masses teeming and happy - common clay, if you like - eating, breeding, working, counting their pennies; people who just live; ordinary people; people you can't imagine dead. And then there are the others - the noble ones, the heroes. The ones you can quite well imagine lying shot, pale and tragic; one minute triumphant with a guard of honor, and the next being marched away between two gendarmes

Believe me; all evil comes from the old. They grow fat on ideas and young men die of them.

Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.

One cannot weep for the entire world, it is beyond human strength. One must choose.

A happy love is full of quarrels, you know.

Talent is like a faucet, while it is open, one must write.

Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute! Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Only engage, and then the mind grows heated. Begin, and then the work will be completed.