Sometimes, there is no harm in putting off a piece of work until another day.
The flower you single out is a rejection of all other flowers; nevertheless, only on these terms is it beautiful.
Nobody grasped you by the shoulder while there was still time. Now the clay of which you were shaped has dried and hardened, and naught in you will ever awaken the sleeping musician, the poet, the asronomer that possibly inhabited you in the beginning.
Peace dies when the framework is ripped apart. When there is no longer a place that is yours in the world. When you know no longer where your friend is to be found.
We don’t ask to be eternal beings. We only ask that things do not lose all their meaning.
In giving you are throwing a bridge across the chasm of your solitude.
The tree is more than first a seed, then a stem, then a living trunk, and then dead timber. The tree is a slow, enduring force straining to win the sky.
Mad is the man who is forever gritting his teeth against that granite block, complete and changeless, of the past.
Sometimes we behave as though there was something more important than life. But what?
It is much more difficult to judge oneself than to judge others.
Pure logic is the ruin of the spirit.
Once you are my friend, I am responsible for you.
What was my body to me? A kind of flunkey in my service. Let but my anger wax hot, my love grow exalted, my hatred collect in me, and that boasted solidarity between me and my body was gone.
Life has meaning only if one barters it day by day for something other than itself.
No single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born. It would be a bit too easy if we could go about borrowing ready-made souls.
I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things.
Transport of the mails, transport of the human voice, transport of flickering pictures-in this century as in others our highest accomplishments still have the single aim of bringing men together.
If Someone wants a sheep, then that means that he exists.
Only he can understand what a farm is, what a country is, who shall have sacrificed part of himself to his farm or country, fought to save it, struggled to make it beautiful. Only then will the love of farm or country fill his heart.
Only the unknown frightens men. But once a man has faced the unknown, that terror becomes the known.