O youth! thou often tearest thy wings against the thorns of voluptuousness.

The hand which moves over the dial moves also among souls.

To lie a little is not possible: he who lies, lies the whole lie.

Phenomena intersect; to see but one is to see nothing.

The tomb is not a blind alley: it is a thoroughfare. It closes on the twilight. It opens on the dawn.

The human soul has still greater need of the ideal than of the real. It is by the real that we exist; it is by the ideal that we live.

So your desire is to do nothing? Well, you shall not have a week, a day, an hour, free from oppression. You shall not be able to lift anything without agony. Every passing minute will make your muscles crack. What is feather to others will be a rock to you. The simplest things will become difficult. Life will become monstrous about you. To come, to go, to breathe, will be so many terrible tasks for you. Your lungs will feel like a hundred-pound weight.