I returned to the courtyard and saw that the sun had grown weaker. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. Heavy clouds moved from the north and were invading the top of the mountain, covering it with a light brume. It seemed to be fog, and perhaps fog was also rising from the ground, but at that altitude it was difficult to distinguish the mists that rose from below and those that come down from above. It was becoming hard to discern the bulk of the more distant buildings.

The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else.

Show not what has been done, but what can be. How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths.

It is psychologically very hard to go through life without the justification, and the hope, provided by religion.

The real hero is always a hero by mistake.

The poets did not win; the philosophers surrendered.

It takes a little time, but the pleasures of cooking begin before the pleasures of the palate, and preparing means anticipating.