“My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.”

When you have a sorrow that is too great it leaves no room for any other.

The only basis for living is believing in life, loving it, and applying the whole force of one’s intellect to know it better.

If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.

How evil life must be if it were indeed necessary that such imploring cries, such cries of physical and moral wretchedness, should ever and ever ascend to heaven!

She might have liked to try to strangle him with those slender fingers of hers, but she wanted to make a job of it and this great patience with which she waited for her claws to grow was in itself a form of enjoyment.

Governments are suspicious of literature because it is a force that eludes them.

Don’t go looking at me like that because you’ll wear your eyes out.

Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.

Let us eat, drink and satisfy our coarse appetites, but let us keep our souls sacred and apart.

I am spending delightful afternoons in my garden, watching everything living around me. As I grow older, I feel everything departing, and I love everything with more passion.

Violence has never prospered, you can’t remake the world in a day. Anyone who promises to change everything for you all at once is either a fool or a rogue!

I am an artist. I am here to live out loud.

The word realist means nothing to me, because I would subordinate reality to temperament. Give me what is true and I applaud; but give me what is individual and alive and I applaud even more.

If something’s just, I’ll let myself be hacked to bits for it.

They talked so, with secret hearts, without needing words, talking of other things. They could have suddenly continued their confessions aloud, without ceasing to understand each other.

When peoples care for you and cry for you, they can straighten out your soul.

Like as the culver on the bared bough Sits mourning for the absence of her mate.

If you haven’t cried, your eyes can’t be beautiful.

I cried today and I cried yesterday, Salty tears rushing down. My face fastened breaths, palms in sweat and the unbearable guilt of my being.

We’ve had enough of exhortations to be silent! Cry out with a hundred thousand tongues. I see that the world is rotten because of silence.

We need to put ourselves in the shoes of our customers. That is my new battle cry. Live and breathe Starbucks the way our customers do.

An empath does not sleep. She listens to the wind and wonders if its crying.

Figure out what makes you laugh, and do more of it. Figure out what makes you cry, and do less of it.