Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive.

Poetry is not the opinion stated. It is a song that appears instead of a bloody wound or a smiling mouth.

Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another ruler with trumpetings again. Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle. Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.

Extreme torture is mute, and so we sat silent, petrified, like columns of marble buried under the sand of an earthquake. Neither wished to listen to the other because our heart-threads had become weak and even breathing would have broken them.

Some who are too scrupulous to steal your possessions nevertheless see no wrong in tampering with your thoughts.

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.

I said to Life, I would hear Death speak. And Life raised her voice a little higher and said, You hear him now.