The fool,fixed in his folly,may think He can turn the wheel on which he turns.

Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman -But who is that on the other side of you?

April is the cruellest month.

The more perfect the artist, the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind which creates.

Time past and time future allow but a little consciousness. To be conscious is not to be in time.

It is not necessarily those lands which are the most fertile or most favored in climate that seem to me the happiest, but those in which a long struggle of adaptation between man and his environment has brought out the best qualities of both.

Culture is the one thing that we cannot deliberately aim at. It is the product of a variety of more or less harmonious activities, each pursued for its own sake.