True' and 'false' are the evasions of people who never want to arrive at a decision. Truth is something without end.

The proverbial notion of historical distance consists in our having lost ninety-five of every hundred original facts, so the remaining ones can be arranged however one likes.

Time, which runs through the world like an endless tinsel thread, seemed to pass through the centre of this room and through the centre of these people and suddenly to pause and petrify, stiff, still and glittering... and the objects in the room drew a little closer together.

Every day there comes a moment when a person lays his hands in his lap and all his busyness collapses like ashes. The work accomplished is, from the soul's point of view, entirely imaginary.

Progress would be wonderful - if only it would stop.

If there is a sense of reality, there must also be a sense of possibility.

Don't you know that every perfect life would be the end of art?