I can't fashion myself into a different person who might be better suited to be his friend.

One idiot is one idiot. Two idiots are two idiots. Ten thousand idiots are a political party.

Theoretically there is a perfect possibility of happiness: believing in the indestructible element in oneself and not striving towards it.

The onlookers go rigid when the train goes past.

Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.

This perversion of the truth, familiar to the artist though it was, always unnerved him afresh and proved too much for him. What was a consequence of the premature ending of his fast was here presented as the cause of it! To fight against this lack of understanding, against a whole world of nonunderstanding, was impossible.

All right then, I'll be mad at you on this score, which incidentally is no great misfortune, as things balance out quite well if there's a little anger for you lurking in one corner of my heart.