Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.
Imagination, of course, can open any door - turn the key and let terror walk right in.
[Y]outh is hardly human: it can't be, for the young never believe they will die...especially would they never believe that death comes, and often, in forms other than the natural one.
It’s better to look at the sky than live there
Before birth; yes, what time was it then? A time like now, and when they were dead, it would be still like now: these trees, that sky, this earth, those acorn seeds, sun and wind, all the same, while they, with dust-turned hearts, change only.
I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together.
Have you never heard what the wise men say: all of the future exists in the past.
I've got something inside of me, peasantlike and stubborn, and I'm in it till the end of the race.
Leave it to me: I'm always top banana in the shock department.
Maybe the older you grow and the less easy it is to put thought into action, maybe that’s why it gets all locked up in your head and becomes a burden.
As long as you live, there's always something waiting; and even if it's bad, and you know it's bad, what can you do? You can't stop living.
We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.
Time. Time. What is time? Swiss manufacture it, French hoard it, Italians squander it, Americans say it is money. Hindus say it does not exist. Know what I say? I say time is a crook.
Clocks indeed must have their sacrifice: what is death but an offering to time and eternity?
I dream of eagles and bring forth sparrows.
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