I am alone, I thought, and they are everybody.

A cultivated and decent man cannot be vain without setting a fearfully high standard for himself, and without despising and almost hating himself at certain moments.

The whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano key.

But man is a fickle and disreputable creature and perhaps, like a chess-player, is interested in the process of attaining his goal rather than the goal itself.

It is a law of nature that every decent man on earth is bound to be a coward and a slave

I will put up with any mockery rather than pretend that I am satisfied when I am hungry.

For though your mind is active enough, your heart is darkened with corruption, and without a pure heart there can be no full or genuine sensibility.

Man is fond of reckoning up his troubles, but does not count his joys.

What does reason know? Reason only knows what it has succeeded in learning...

Man only likes counting his grief, he doesn't count his happiness. But if he were to count properly, he'd see that there's enough of both lots for him.

I invented adventures for myself and made up a life, so as at least to live in some way.

Beauty is something that burns the hand when you touch it.

...lies can sound awfully pretty when a girl is in love with the person telling them.

And they lived ever after, whether they were happy about it or not.

If you don't give your kid freedom to make choices with money, including stupid choices, he'll make plenty when he gets to college.

The long path from material through function to creative work has only one goal: to create order out of the desperate confusion of our time.

Wisdom lies in recognizing the dangers that lie within us and doing battle with them daily.

The web: yet another total disorientation that becomes status quo without anyone realizing it.

You can't lie when you dance. It's so direct. You do what is in you. It is impossible to dance out of the side of your mouth.

In that he didn't die at the finish line, he could have run faster

People never talked about my music. They just counted how many knickers were on stage.