No great art has ever been made without the artist having known danger.

But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and so loving, for a long while ahead and far on into life, is-solitude, intensified and deepened loneness for him who loves.

What do the contours of your body mean, laid out like the lines on a hand, so that I no longer see them except as fate?

Everything in the world of things and animals is still filled with happening, which you can take part in.

It wasn't his, it wasn't my fault, we both had nothing except patience, but Death has none. I saw him come (how meanly!) and I watched him as he took and took: none of it I could claim as mine.

Love is like the measles. The older you get it, the worse the attack.

Ah, how good it is to be among people who are reading!