“I walked in the meadows of green grieving for my life.”

In days of doubt, in days of dreary musings on my country’s fate, you alone are my comfort and support, oh great, powerful, righteous, and free Russian language!

The temerity to believe in nothing.

I’ve become convinced that every person should treat himself strictly and even rudely and distrustfully; it’s difficult to tame the beast in oneself.

Significance is sweet.

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 sorts of difficulties for themselves and spoil their lives.

Ah, but in time the heat of noontide passes, and to it there succeed nightfall and dusk, with a return to the quiet fold where for the weary an the heavy-laden there waits sleep, sweet sleep.

I share no man’s opinions; I have my own.

If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.

Behind me there are already so many memories Lots of memories, but no point in remembering them, and ahead of me a long, long road with nothing to aim for I just don’t want to go along it.

A person who gets angry at his own illness is sure to overcome it.

The past was a dream wasn’t it? And who ever remembers dreams?

What a magnificent body, how I should like to see it on the dissecting table.

Nature creates while destroying, and doesn’t care whether it creates or destroys as long as life isn’t extinguished, as long as death doesn’t lose its rights.

We sit in the mud and reach for the stars.

I look up to heaven only when I want to sneeze.

One may speak about anything on earth with fire, with enthusiasm, with ecstasy, but one only speaks about oneself with avidity.

Not to be cheered by praise, not to be grieved by blame, but to know thoroughly one’s own virtues or powers are the characteristics of an excellent man.

What this mob intends as a grievous insult

Never is it the wish of `Abdu’l-Bahá to see any being hurt, nor will He make anyone to grieve; for man can receive no greater gift than this, that he rejoice another’s heart.

And it must traverse all conditions, for its passage and movement through the conditions of existence will be the means of its acquiring perfections.

No time to grieve for roses when the forests are burning.