It is the loving, not the loved, woman who feels loveable.

The West is color. Its colors are animal rather than vegetable, the colors of earth and sunlight and ripeness.

A religious awakening which does not awaken the sleeper to love has roused him in vain.

The sick soon come to understand that they live in a different world from that of the well and that the two cannot communicate.

I seem to be the only person in the world who doesn't mind being pitied. If you love me, pity me. The human state is pitiable: born to die, capable of so much, accomplishing so little; killing instead of creating, destroying instead of building, hating instead of loving. Pitiful, pitiful.

There are two barriers that often prevent communication between the young and their elders. The first is middle-aged forgetfulness of the fact that they themselves are no longer young. The second is youthful ignorance of the fact that the middle aged are still alive.

To meet at all, one must open ones eyes to another; and there is no true conversation no matter how many words are spoken, unless the eye, unveiled and listening, opens itself to the other.