Palestine needs earth, but it does not need lawyers.
The Fathers of the Church were not afraid to go out into the desert because they had a richness in their hearts. But we, with richness all around us, are afraid, because the desert is in our hearts.
I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.
The true word leads; the untrue misleads.
Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.
I like to make use of what I know
All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.
But questions that don’t answer themselves at the very moment of their asking are never answered.
The right understanding of any matter and a misunderstanding of the same matter do not wholly exclude each other.
Every dog has like me the impulse to question, and I have like every dog the impulse not to answer.
The limited circle is pure.
Human nature, essentially changeable, as unstable as the dust, can endure no restraint; if it binds itself it soon begins to tear madly at its bonds, until it rends everything asunder, the wall, the bonds, and its very self.
He who seeks does not find, but he who does not seek will be found.
A book should serve as an axe to the ice inside us.
In me, by myself, without human relationship, there are no visible lies. The limited circle is pure.
Maybe innocence makes its way easiest through the elemental chaos of this world.
I carry the bars within me.
Some books seem like a key to unfamiliar rooms in one’s own castle.
Logic may indeed be unshakeable, but it cannot withstand a man who is determined to live.
This morning, for the first time in a long time, the joy again of imagining a knife twisted in my heart.
Alas," said the mouse, "the whole world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into." "You only need to change your direction," said the cat, and ate it up.
Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.
It is strange how little sharpsightedness women possess; they only notice whether they please, then whether they arouse pity, and finally, whether you look for compassion from them. That is all; come to think of it, it may even be enough, generally speaking.
Photography concentrates one's eye on the superficial. For that reason it obscures the hidden life which glimmers through the outlines of things like a play of light and shade. One can't catch that even with the sharpest lens.
In man's struggle against the world, bet on the world.
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