Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will-whatever we may think.

Science is the poetry of the intellect and poetry the science of the heart's affections.

The loved object is simply one that has shared an experience at the same moment of time, narcissistically; and the desire to be near the beloved object is at first not due to the idea of possessing it, but simply to let the two experiences compare themselves, like reflections in different mirrors. All this may precede the first look, kiss, or touch; precede ambition, pride, or envy; precede the first declarations which mark the turning point—for from here love degenerates into habit, possession, and back to loneliness.

Life is more complicated than we think, yet far simpler than anyone dares to imagine

It is not love that is blind, but jealousy.

It is not peace we seek but meaning.

The realisation of one's own death is the point at which one becomes adult.