I have only one friend, and that is echo. Why is it my friend? Because I love my sorrow, and echo does not take it away from me. I have only one confidant, and that is the silence of night. Why is it my confidant? Because it remains silent.

The more one suffers, the more, I believe, has one a sense for the comic. It is only by the deepest suffering that one acquires true authority in the use of the comic, an authority which by one word transforms as by magic the reasonable creature one calls man into a caricature.

I must find a truth that is true for me.

Affliction is able to drown out every earthly voice. . . but the voice of eternity within a person it cannot drown.

So to be sick unto death is, not to be able to die-yet not as though there were hope of life; no, the hopelessness in this case is that even the last hope, death, is not available. When death is the greatest danger, one hopes for life; but when one becomes acquainted with an even more dreadful danger, one hopes for death. So when the danger is so great that death has become one's hope, despair is the disconsolateness of not being able to die.

There is nothing with which every man is so afraid as getting to know how enormously much he is capable of doing and becoming.

In the eyes of God, the infinite spirit, all the millions that have lived and now live do not make a crowd. He only sees each individual