Happy people have no history.
Men are so accustomed to maintaining external order by violence that they cannot conceive of life being possible without violence.
Violence produces only something resembling justice, but it distances people from the possibility of living justly, without violence.
There are no conditions to which a man cannot become accustomed.
Beautiful as seemed mama’s face, it became more lovely when she smiled and seemed to enliven everything about her.
The appreciation of the merits of art of the emotions it conveys depends upon an understanding of the meaning of life...
He was afraid of defiling the love which filled his soul.
Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.
Here I am alive, and it’s not my fault, so I have to try and get by as best I can without hurting anybody until death takes over.
The only happy marriages I know are arranged ones.
To get rid of an enemy one must love him.
Then we should find some artificial inoculation against love, as with smallpox.
I often think that men don’t understand what is noble and what is ignorant, though they always talk about it.
I’m like a starving man who has been given food. Maybe he’s cold, and his clothes are torn, and he’s ashamed, but he’s not unhappy.
But I’m glad you’ll see me as I am. Above all, I wouldn’t want people to think that I want to prove anything. I don’t want to prove anything, I just want to live; to cause no evil to anyone but myself. I have that right, haven’t I?
He had the unlucky capacity many men have of seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness and truth, but of seeing the evil and falsehood of life too clearly to take any serious part in it.
Instead of going to Paris to attend lectures, go to the public library, and you won’t come out for twenty years, if you really wish to learn.
When one’s head is gone one doesn’t weep over one’s hair!
Art begins when a man, with a purpose of communicating to other people a feeling he once experienced, calls it up again within himself and expresses it by certain external signs.
The march of humanity, springing as it does from an infinite multitude of individual wills, is continuous.