In order to master the unruly torrent of life the learned man meditates, the poet quivers, and the political hero erects the fortress of his will.
Life is a series of collisions with the future; it is not the sum of what we have been, but what we yearn to be.
We do not live to think, but, on the contrary, we think in order that we may succeed in surviving.
Rancor is an outpouring of a feeling of inferiority.
The poet begins where the man ends. The man's lot is to live his human life, the poet's to invent what is nonexistent.
An 'unemployed' existence is a worse negation of life than death itself.
