Joy can only be real if people look upon their life as a service and have a definite object in life outside themselves and their personal happiness.

She had no need to ask why he had come. She knew as certainly as if he had told her that he was here to be where she was.

Smiling with pleasure, they went through their memories, not sad, old people's memories, but poetic, youthful ones, those impressions from the very distant past where dream merges with reality, and they laughed softly, rejoicing at something.

Error is the force that welds men together; truth is communicated to men only by deeds of truth.

People jump back and forth in pursuit of pleasures only because they see the emptiness of their lives more clearly than they do the emptiness of whichever new entertainment attracts them.

Music makes me forget myself, my true condition, it carries me off into another state of being, one that isn't my own.

As we live through thousands of dreams in our present life, so is our present life only one of many thousands of such lives which we enter from the other more real life and then return after death. Our life is but one of the dreams of that more real life, and so it is endlessly, until the very last one, the very real the life of God.