We discover that we do not know our role; we look for a mirror; we want to remove our make-up and take off what is false and real. But somewhere a piece of disguise that we forgot still sticks to us. A trace of exaggeration remains in our eyebrows; we do not notice that the corners of our mouth are bent. And so we walk around, a mockery and a mere half: neither having achieved being nor actors.

Think... of the world you carry within you.

[A]t bottom, and just in the deepest and most important things, we are unutterably alone, and for one person to be able to advise or even help another, a lot must happen, a lot must go well, a whole constellation of things must come right in order once to succeed.

Dig deep into your heart, where the answer spreads its roots in your being, and ask yourself solemnly, Must I write?

There are moments in which a rose is more important than a piece of bread

And you should not let yourself be confused in your solitude by the fact that there is something in you that wants to move out of it.

Go on loving what is good, simple, and ordinary.