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 thought: hope cannot be said to exist, nor can it be said not to exist. It is just like roads across the earth. For actually the earth had no roads to begin with, but when many men pass one way, a road is made.

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.

True, we must dare look things in the face before we dare think, speak, act, or assume responsibility. If we dare not even look, what else are we good for?

But anyone who thinks themselves genuinely unbiased is bound to be taken in.

The ability to forget the past enables people to free themselves gradually from the pain they once suffered; but it also often makes them repeat the mistakes of their predecessors.

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