Our shadows are taller than ourselves.
The past is such a subtle thing. [But] in the end, nothing else exists, everything is made of the past, even the future.
Being bilingual is like having a wife and a mistress. One can never be sure of either.
A thought falls like a ripe fruit from the tree of idleness.
If only art were as rare as good taste.
A scholar's heart is a dark well in which are buried many aborted feelings that rise to the surface as arguments.