I had a world, and it slipped away from me. The War blew up more than the bodies of men....It blew ideas away.

The disease we all have and that we have to fight against all our lives is ... the disease of self.

It may be life is only worthwhile at moments. Perhaps that is all we ought to expect.

When a man publishes a book, there are so many stupid things said that he declares he'll never do it again. The praise is almost always worse than the criticism.

The writer, an old man with a white moustache, had some difficulty getting into bed.

It was a cold day but the sun was out and the trees were like great bonfires against gray distant fields and hills.

In the beginning when the world was young there were a great many thoughts but no such thing as truth. Man made the truths himself and each truth was a composite of a great many vague thoughts. All about in the world were truths and they were all beautiful.