Conscience is less an inner voice than the memory of a mother's glance.
No matter how you hurry, you will notice at the end of the day that you traveled at the speed of time.
If you can't forgive and forget, pick one.
It helps if you don't see it as traffic but rather as thousands of individuals resolved to press on another day.
Does a rose exist that I might behold it? Or do I exist that a rose might be beheld?
Everything we possess that is not necessary for life or happiness becomes a burden, and scarcely a day passes that we do not add to it.