Language is the Rubicon that divides man from beast.

While the river of life glides along smoothly, it remains the same river; only the landscape on either bank seems to change.

Language is the Rubicon that divides man from beast.

And then when all around grows dark, when we feel utterly alone, when all men right and left pass us by and know us not, a forgotten feeling rises in the breast.

Of these years nought remains in memory but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older.

What is emitted from the divine, though it be only like the reflection from the fire, still has the divine reality in itself, and one might almost ask what were the fire without glow, the sun without light, or the Creator without the creature?

It smote me to the heart that I had found no one in all the world who loved me more than all others.