Suddenly the full long wail of a ship's horn surged through the open window and flooded the dim room—a cry of boundless, dark, demanding grief; pitch-black and glabrous as a whale's back and burdened with all the passions of the tides, the memory of voyages beyond counting, the joys, the humiliations: the sea was screaming.

Beyond doubt, there was a certain splendor in pain, which bore a deep affinity to the splendor that lies hidden within strength.

There's a huge seal called 'impossibility' pasted all over this world. And don't ever forget that we're the only ones who can tear it off once and for all.

...of all the kinds of decay in this world, decadent purity is the most malignant.

The cynicism that regards hero worship as comical is always shadowed by a sense of physical inferiority

For clearly it is impossible to touch eternity with one hand and life with the other.

Nobody even imagines how well one can lie about the state of one’s own heart.