Everywhere across whatever sorrows of which our life is woven, some radiant joy will gaily flash past.

...and sank into the profound slumber which comes only to such fortunate folk as are troubled neither with mosquitoes nor fleas nor excessive activity of brain.

In the end dreams became his life, and his whole life thereafter took a strange turn: one might say he slept while waking and watched while asleep.

I am who I am and that's who I am

But wise is the man who disdains no character, but with searching glance explores him to the root and cause of all.

Everywhere across whatever sorrows of which our life is woven, some radiant joy will gaily flash past.

[F]or contemporary judgment does not recognize that much depth of soul is needed to light up the picture drawn from contemptible life and elevate it into a pearl of creation.