True love is just like regular love, but with more truth.
He wants to enslave you.' 'I shudder at the thought of being free.
In modern life nothing produces such an effect as a good platitude. It makes the whole world kin.
I have pleasures, and passions, but the joy of life is gone. I am going under: the morgue yawns for me. I go and look at my zinc-bed there. After all, I had a wonderful life, which is, I fear, over.
I can sympathize with everything, except suffering.
The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?