I implore those who love me to love my solitude.

It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living.

Things aren't all so tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe; most experiences are unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered, and more unsayable than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life

The highest form of love is to be the protector of another person’s solitude.

But because truly being here is so much; because everything here apparently needs us, this fleeting world, which in some strange way keeps calling to us. Us, the most fleeting of all.

All this hurrying soon will be over. Only when we tarry do we touch the holy.

Fame — the aggregate of all the misunderstandings that collect around a new name.