What we call fate does not come into us from the outside, but emerges from us.
Fame is finally only the sum total of all the misunderstanding that can gather around a new name.
My blood is alive with many voices telling me I am made of longing.
Thus we live, forever taking leave.
a kind of memory that tells us that what we're now striving for was once nearer and truer and attached to us with infinite tenderness. Here all is distance, there it was breath. After the first home the second one seems draughty and strangely sexed.
Be of good courage all is before you, and time passed in the difficult is never lost...What is required of us is that we live the difficult and learn to deal with it. In the difficult are the friendly forces, the hands that work on us.