I am one of those who believe that spiritual progress is a rule of human life, but the approach to perfection is slow and painful. If a woman elevates herself in one respect and is retarded in another, it is because the rough trail that leads to the mountain peak is not free of ambushes of thieves and lairs of wolves.

For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks." Thus I became a madman.

Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within me, called you tender names.

As the strings of a lute are apart though they quiver the same music.

Life is the mistress to be wooed.

I use hate as a weapon to defend myself; had I been strong, I would never have needed that kind of weapon.

He is short-sighted who looks only on the path he treads and the wall on which he leans.