Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart; I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets, and the roses, as at twenty years ago.

Slaves would be tyrants were the chance theirs.

Symmetry is ennui, and ennui is the very essence of grief and melancholy. Despair yawns.

Men like me are impossible until the day when they become necessary.

Progress is the life-style of man.

The soul in the darkness sins, but the real sinner is he who caused the darkness.

Dying is nothing. What's terrible is not to live.