Circumstances define us; they force us onto one road or another, and then they punish us for it.
Nothing is worse and more hurtful than a happiness that comes too late.
People without firmness of character love to make up a fate for themselves; that relieves them of the necessity of having their own will and of taking responsibility for themselves.
Nature cares nothing for logic, our human logic: she has her own, which we do not recognize and do not acknowledge until we are crushed under its wheel.
Great God, grant that twice two be not four.
Life deceives everyone except the individual who doesn’t contemplate it, the individual who demands nothing from it, the individual who serenely accepts its few gifts and serenely makes the most of them.
So long as one’s just dreaming about what to do, one can soar like an eagle and move mountains, it seems, but as soon as one starts doing it one gets worn out and tired.
Oh, gentle feelings, soft sounds, the goodness and the gradual stilling of a soul that has been moved; the melting happiness of the first tender, touching joys of love- where are you?
I never started from ideas but always from character.
A poet must be a psychologist, but a secret one: he should know and feel the roots of phenomena but present only the phenomena themselves in full bloom or as they fade away.
Time, as is well known, sometimes flies like a bird and sometimes crawls like a worm, but human beings are generally particularly happy when they don’t notice whether it’s passing quickly or slowly.
Even nightingales can’t be fed on fairy tales.
Belonging to oneself – the whole essence of life lies in that.
All human beings hang by a thread, an abyss may open under their feet at any moment, and yet they have to go and invent all sortsof difficulties for themselves and spoil their lives.
I don’t see why it’s impossible to express everything that’s on one’s mind.
That’s what children are for – that their parents may not be bored.
The word tomorrow was invented for indecisive people and for children.
I believe love produces a certain flowering of the whole personality which nothing else can achieve...
In the end, nature is inexorable: it has no reason to hurry and, sooner or later, it takes what belongs to it. Unconsciously and inflexibly obedient to its own laws, it doesn’t know art, just as it doesn’t know freedom, just as it doesn’t know goodness.
No matter how often you knock at nature’s door, she won’t answer in words you can understand – for Nature is dumb. She’ll vibrate and moan like a violin, but you mustn’t expect a song.