We all reject out of hand the idea that the love of our life may be something light or weightless; we presume our love is what must be, that without it our life would no longer be the same; we feel that Beethoven himself, gloomy and awe-inspiring, is playing the “Es muss sein!” to our own great love.

At the end of true love is death, and only the love that ends in death is love.

Since the insignificance of all things is our lot, we should not bear it as an affliction but learn to enjoy it.

A single metaphor can give birth to love.

Laughing deeply is living deeply.

A worker may be the hammer's master, but the hammer still prevails. A tool knows exactly how it is meant to be handled, while the user of the tool can only have an approximate idea.

Any new possibility that existence acquires, even the least likely, transforms everything about existence.