Green makes me think of silence, or maybe it's loneliness. I get the feeling of a terribly distant star.

Nature with her wealth of birds and flowers, Has in her heart a place for every weed; For her quick eyes require no microscope To note the varied wonders and delights That the Creator's humblest works possess.

Work seemed something fundamental for man, something which enabled him to endure the aimless flight of time.

When I was young, I could bounce back from things like a brand-new rubber ball.

Mankind, which has always been a part of nature, has reached a point where it is too much for nature to accommodate.

Yet there seemed to be some truth in the law of probability, according to which the chance of success is directly proportionate to the number of repetitions.

When I look at small things, I think I shall go on living: drops of rain, leather gloves shrunk by being wet... When I look at something too big, I want to die: the Diet Building, or a map of the world.