If you wish to live, you must first attend your own funeral.

But one day we shall be rich, and the next poor. One day we shall dine in a palace and the next we'll sit in a forest and toast mushrooms on a hatpin.

Wind moving through grass so that the grass quivers. This moves me with an emotion I don't even understand.

I want, by understanding myself, to understand others.

I love the night. I love to feel the tide of darkness rising, slowly and slowly washing, turning over and over, lifting, floating, all that lies strewn upon the dark beach, all that lies hid in rocky hollows.

Whenever I prepare for a journey I prepare as though for death. Should I never return, all is in order.

I am treating you as my friend, asking you to share my present minuses in the hope that I can ask you to share my future plusses.