“What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music.”

Boredom is the root of all evil.

Take away paradox from the thinker and you have a professor.

If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible.

The highest and most beautiful things in life are not to be heard about, nor read about, nor seen but, if one will, are to be lived.

My melancholy is the most faithful sweetheart I have had.

What labels me, negates me.

In my great melancholy, I loved life, for I love my melancholy.

And this is one of the most crucial definitions for the whole of Christianity; that the opposite of sin is not virtue but faith.

What if everything in the world were a misunderstanding, what if laughter were really tears?

I stick my finger into existence and it smells of nothing.

The greatest hazard of all, losing one’s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all.

Why bother remembering a past that cannot be made into a present?

In the secretly blushing cheek is reflected the glow of the heart.

Above all, do not lose your desire to walk.

My melancholy is the most faithful mistress I have known; what wonder, then, that I love her in return.

There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.