We never remember days, only moments.
We do not free ourselves from something by avoiding it, but only by living though it.
Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things: air, sleep, dreams, sea, the sky - all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.
If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light. Take off all your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness and fears.
The only joy in the world is to begin. It is good to be alive because living is beginning, always, every moment.
Life is pain and the enjoyment of love is an anesthetic.
Lessons are not given, they are taken.
Idleness makes hours pass slowly and years swiftly. Activity makes the hours short and the years long.
No matter how much a young man likes to think for himself, he is always trying to model himself on some abstract pattern largely derived from the example of the world around him. And a man, no matter how conservative, shows his own worth by his personal deviation from that pattern.
The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.
You cannot insult a man more atrociously than by refusing to believe he is suffering .
The only joy in the world is to begin.
We commit two wrongs when we fail to right a wrong.
But the real, tremendous truth is this: suffering serves no purpose whatever.
A man is never completely alone in this world. At the worst, he has the company of a boy, a youth, and by and by a grown man - the one he used to be.
Life is not a search for experience, but for ourselves. Having discovered our own fundamental level we realize that it conforms to our own destiny and we find peace.
The closing years of life are like the end of a masquerade party, when the masks are dropped.
The only way to escape the abyss is to look at it, gauge it, sound it out and descend into it.
Every luxury must be paid for, and everything is a luxury, starting with being in this world.
It's pointless to cry. One is born and dies alone.
The whole problem of life, then, is this: how to break out of one's own loneliness, how to communicate with others.
We obtain things when we no longer want them.
What world lies beyond that stormy sea I do not know, but every ocean has a distant shore, and I shall reach it.
Human imagination is immensely poorer than reality.
The art of living is the art of knowing how to believe lies. The fearful thing about it is that, not knowing what truth may be, we can still recognize lies.
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