I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.

Of all my books, I find only a few indispensible.

I believe that nothing that is real can pass away.

One had to take some action against fear when once it laid hold of one.

If there is nothing you can share with other people, try to be close to Things, they will not abandon you; and the nights are still here and the winds that move through the trees and across many lands; everything in the world of Things and animals is still filled with happening, which you can take part in.

Truly to sing, that is a different breath.

For our part, when we feel, we evaporate; ah, we breathe ourselves out and away; with each new heartfire we give off a fainter scent. True, someone may tell us: you're in my blood, this room, Spring itself is filled with you . . . To what end? He can't hold us, we vanish within him and around him.