Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed.
Every man and every living creature has a sacred right to the gladness of springtime.
He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.
Which is worse? the wolf who cries before eating the lamb or the wolf who does not.
Every heart has its own skeletons.
Just as a painter needs light in order to put the finishing touches to his picture, so I need an inner light, which I feel I never have enough of in the autumn.