Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous - to poetry. But also, it gives birth to the opposite: to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd.

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It is love, not reason, that is stronger than death.

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War is only a cowardly escape from the problems of peace.

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Tolerance becomes a crime when applied to evil.

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Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder-storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.

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Only love, and not reason, yields kind thoughts.

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In books we never find anything but ourselves. Strangely enough, that always gives us great pleasure, and we say the author is a genius.

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A harmful truth is better than a useful lie.

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He who loves the more is the inferior and must suffer.

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A great truth is a truth whose opposite is also a truth.

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