Mine has been a life of much shame. I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.

What uneasiness lies in being loved.

For someone like myself in whom the ability to trust others is so cracked and broken that I am wretchedly timid and am forever trying to read the expression on people's faces.

The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness

A true artist is an ugly man.

Now even if I die, no one will be so grieved as to do himself bodily harm.

I like roses best. But they bloom in all four seasons. I wonder if people who like roses best have to die four times over again.

But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly, for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today.

Victims. Victims of a transitional period of morality. That is what we both certainly are.

Addiction is perhaps a sickness of the spirit.

I want to spend my time with people who don't look to be respected. But such good people won't want to spend their time with me.

Love is a complete mystery in the lives of many because they keep expecting it to come from others to them.

The secret is to make sure your family comes before anything else, because no matter what you do you've got to come home.

History is an endless repetition of the wrong way of living.

When I watch the Olympics I become such an emotional wreck. I've always loved the Olympics, be it the summer or the winter Olympics.

My core belief is that if you're complaining about something for more than three minutes, two minutes ago you should have done something about it.

You're always a work in progress. Flexibility. Personality. Motivation. There's always room to improve.

Do not need to look for reasons to hate when there is reason to love.

In some ways I'm a reticent man, and for quite a number of years there wasn't very much of my real true deep feelings in my writing.

No grief reaches the dead.