He thought of how calm he was. His calm was so perfect that he could not destroy it even by being conscious of it.

Crowds of people moved through the streets with a dream-like violence.

He thought of how calm he was. His calm was so perfect that he could not destroy it even by being conscious of it.

No dream ever entirely disappears. Somewhere it troubles some unfortunate person and some day, when that person has been sufficiently troubled, it will be reproduced on the lot.

Like a dead man, only friction could make him warm or violence make him mobile.

Every child, everywhere; in the whole world there was not one child who was not gravely, sweetly dancing.

Only those who still have hope can benefit from tears.