I prefer a good pair of boots to Shakespeare.

At that instant he knew that all his doubts, even the impossibility of believing with his reason, of which he was aware in himself, did not in the least hinder his turning to God. All of that now floated out of his soul like dust. To whom was he to turn if not to Him in whose hands he felt himself, his soul, and his love?

He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.

The happiness of men consists in life. And life is in labor.

"A real work of art destroys, in the consciousness of the receiver, the separation between himself and the artist."

And the cause of everything is that which we call God.

The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity.