In the difficult are the friendly forces, the hands that work on us.

Look, lovers: almost separately they come towards us through the flowery grass and slowly; parting's so far from thought of, they indulge the extravagance of walking unembraced.

Fame, that public destruction of one in process of becoming, into whose building-ground the mob breaks, displacing his stones.

This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love; the more they give, the more they possess of that precious nourishing love from which flowers and children have their strength and which could help all human beings if they would take it without doubting.

Be out of sync with your times for just one day, and you will see how much eternity you contain within you.

The necessary thing is after all but this; solitude, great inner solitude. Going into oneself for hours meeting no one - this one must be able to attain.

No one can advise and help you, no one. There is only one way: go within.