None of us can estimate what we do when we do it from instinct.

We ride through life on the beast within us. Beat the animal, but you can't make it think.

The facts are to blame, my friend. We are all imprisoned by facts: I was born, I exist.

Nature uses human imagination to lift her work of creation to even higher levels.

I would love to spend all my time writing to you; I'd love to share with you all that goes through my mind, all that weighs on my heart, all that gives air to my soul; phantoms of art, dreams that would be so beautiful if they could come true.

Life is full of strange absurdities, which, strangely enough, do not even need to appear plausible, since they are true.

None of us can estimate what we do when we do it from instinct.