Music expresses that which cannot be put into words.
France lost a great novel last night.
The most excellent symbol of the people is the paving stone. One walks on it until it falls on one's head.
The soul has illusions as the bird has wings: it is supported by them.
If the infinite had no me, then me would be its limit. It would not be the infinite, therefore it would not be.
For there are many great deeds done in the small struggles of life.