he wanted to do, to be, to feel- and could not; he wanted sense, he wanted purpose- in Freud's words, 'Work and Love'.

Waking consciousness is dreaming – but dreaming constrained by external reality

I often feel that life is about to begin, only to realize it is almost over.

Nature gropes and blunders and performs the crudest acts. There is no steady advance upward. There is no design.

The past which is not recoverable in any other way is embedded, as if in amber, in the music, and people can regain a sense of identity.

If we have youth, beauty, blessed gifts, strength, if we find fame, fortune, favor, fulfillment, it is easy to be nice, to turn a warm heart to the world.

Eccentricity is like having an accent. It's what "other" people have.