All roads lead to the earth; the abyss leads to God. Jump!

Yes, there is weeping, even in heaven, but it is for those who are still crawling on the earth.

When shall I at last retire into solitude alone, without companions, without joy and without sorrow, with only the sacred certainty that all is a dream? When, in my rags—without desires—shall I retire contented into the mountains? When, seeing that my body is merely sickness and crime, age and death, shall I—free, fearless, and blissful—retire to the forest? When? When, oh when?

As long as there are flowers and children and birds in the world, have no fears: everything will be fine.

Each man must have his own special route to lead him to God.

The human soul is heavy, clumsy, held in the mud of the flesh. Its perceptions are still coarse and brutish. It can divine nothing clearly, nothing with certainty.

Let your youth have free reign, it won't come again, so be bold and no repenting.