Fame is finally only the sum total of all the misunderstanding that can gather around a new name.

Make your ego porous. Will is of little importance, complaining is nothing, fame is nothing. Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything.

And these things
that keep alive on departure know that
you praise them; transient,
they look to us, the most transient,
to be their rescue.
They want us to change them completely,
in our invisible hearts,
into -- O endlessly -- us! Whoever,
finally, we may be.

I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other.

This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.

The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.