Everything is politics.

One must die to life in order to be utterly a creator.

Is not life in itself a thing of goodness, irrespective of whether the course it takes for us can be called a 'happy' one?

People's behavior makes sense if you think about it in terms of their goals, needs, and motives.

Thought that can merge wholly into feeling, feeling that can merge wholly into thought - these are the artist's highest joy.

Only love, and not reason, yields kind thoughts.

One has the idea of a stupid man as perfectly healthy and ordinary, and of illness as making one refined and clever and unusual.