Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.

What someone is, begins to be revealed when his talent abates, when he stops showing us what he can do.

Love of one is a piece of barbarism: for it is practised at the expense of all others. Love of God likewise.

The real world is much smaller than the imaginary

İnsanlara gönül indirmek, yüreğinin kapılarını herkese açık tutmak, liberal bir tavırdır, ama yalnızca liberal. S e ç k i n bir konukseverliğe yetkin olan yürekler, sıkı sıkıya çekilmiş perdelerinden ve örtülmüş panjurlarından anlaşılırlar: en iyi odalarını boş tutarlar. Neden mi? -"gönül indirmenin" söz konusu o l m a d ı ğ ı konukları bekledikleri için...

And let that day be lost to us on which we did not dance once! And let that wisdom be false to us that brought no laughter with it!