Music is the melody whose text is the world.

Phil. Look what you are doing! When you say, I—I—I want to exist you alone do not say this, but everything, absolutely everything, that has only a vestige of consciousness. Consequently this desire of yours is just that which is not individual but which is common to all without distinction.

Common people are merely intent on spending time - whoever has some talent, on making use of it.

Because people have no thoughts to deal in, they deal cards, and try and win one another's money. Idiots!

A man's face as a rule says more, and more interesting things, than his mouth, for it is a compendium of everything his mouth will ever say, in that it is the monogram of all this man's thoughts and aspirations.

Everyone takes the limits of his own vision for the limits of the world.

No rose without a thorn. Yes, but many a thorn without a rose.