“My love for imaginary objects and my facility in lending myself to them ended by disillusioning me with everything around me, and determined that love of solitude which I have retained ever since that time.”

But in some great souls, who consider themselves as citizens of the world, and forcing the imaginary barriers that separate people from people.

I may be no better, but at least I am different.

The imagination which causes so many ravages among us, never speaks to the heart of savages.

To do is to be.

The sociable man, always outside himself, is capable of living only in the opinions of others and, so to speak, derives the sentiment of his own existence solely from their judgment.

If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?

To renounce liberty is to renounce being a man, to surrender the rights of humanity and even its duties.

To be sane in a world of madman is in itself madness.

I feel an indescribable ecstasy and delirium in melting, as it were, into the system of being, in identifying myself with the whole of nature..

There are times when I am so unlike myself that I might be taken for someone else of an entirely opposite character.

What good is it looking for our happiness in the opinion of others if we can find it in ourselves?

The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless.

What wisdom can you find greater than kindness.

One does not drink. One gives a kiss to his glass, and the wine returns a caress to you.

However great a man’s natural talent may be, the act of writing cannot be learned all at once.

I hate books; they only teach us to talk about things we know nothing about.

A teacher says “I am sowing the seeds of revolution.” At that time we cannot imagine how powerful the teacher is, but he certainly derives joy by fulfilling his duty.

Thank God for giving you this world as a moral gymnasium to help your development, but never imagine you can help the world.

When workers fall back on violence, they are lost. Oh, they might win some of their demands and might end a strike a little earlier, but they give up their imagination, their creativity, their will to work hard and to suffer for what they believe is right.

History is marked by alternating movements across the imaginary line that separates East from West in Eurasia.

Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships.

Do not imagine that these most difficult problems can be thoroughly understood by any one of us.

The imagination is precious. Don’t lose it. Don’t lose the child in you.

I don’t understand the process of imagination-though I know that I am very much at its mercy.