Never stop writing because you have run out of ideas. Fill the lacunae of inspiration by tidily copying out what is already written.

He who seeks to approach his own buried past must conduct himself like a man digging... This confers the tone and bearing of genuine reminiscences. He must not be afraid to return again and again to the same matter; to scatter it as one scatters earth, to turn it over as one turns over soil.

Melancholy betrays the world for the sake of knowledge. But in its tenacious self-absorption it embraces dead objects in its contemplation, in order to redeem them

The construction of life is at present in the power of facts far more than convictions.

To the lover the loved one always appears as solitary.

Boredom is the dream bird that hatches the egg of experience. A rustling in the leaves drives him away.

Counsel woven into the fabric of real life is wisdom.