There is someone who is living my life. And I know nothing about him.

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

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

A fact is like a sack which won't stand up if it's empty. In order that it may stand up, one has to put into it the reason and sentiment which caused it to exist.

When [man] is happy he takes his happiness as it comes and doesn't analyze it, just as if happiness were his right.

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.

It is much easier to be a hero than a gentleman.