All that I know about my life, it seems, I have learned in books.

The appearance of the other in the world corresponds therefore to a congealed sliding of the whole universe.

Never have I thought that I was the happy possessor of a "talent;" my sole concern has been to save myself by work and faith.

For common minds have an ugly ability to perceive in the deepest and richest saying nothing but their own everyday opinion.

Outside nature, against nature, without excuse, beyond remedy, except what remedy I find within myself.

Hell is for other people.

Genius is what a man invents when he is looking for a way out.