If men refuse to be kindled, sparks can only burn themselves out, just as paper images and carriages burn out on the street during funerals.

Hope is a path on the mountainside. At first there is no path. But then there are people passing that way. And there is a path.

I have a dream that I will fulfill. And nothing else will distract me from my path.

Creation, even when it is a mere outpouring from the heart, wishes to find a public. By definition, creation is sociable. Yet it can be satisfied with merely one single reader: an old friend, a lover.

When a great man has become petrified, and everyone begins to proclaim his greatness, he has already turned into a puppet.

Trust only him who doubts.

Hope is like a path in the countryside. Originally, there is nothing - but as people walk this way again and again, a path appears.