Wild dreams torment me as I lie. And though a god lives in my heart, though all my power waken at his word, though he can move my every inmost part - yet nothing in the outer world is stirred. thus by existence tortured and oppressed I crave for death, I long for rest.

A mathematician is only perfect insofar as he is a perfect man, sensitive to the beauty of truth.

Rash, inexperienced youth holds itself a chosen instrument, and allows itself unbounded license.

We can really respect a man only if he doesn't always look out for himself.

All truly wise thoughts have been thought already thousands of times; but to make them truly ours, we must think them over again honestly, until they take root in our personal experience.

If we are out of synch with ourselves, everything is out of synch for us.

Everything we do has a result. But that which is right and prudent does not always lead to good, nor the contrary to what is bad.