The old -- like children -- talk to themselves, for they have reached that hopeless wisdom of experience which knows that though one were to cry it in the streets to multitudes, or whisper it in the kiss to one's beloved, the only ears that can ever hear one's secrets are one's own!
One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers.
When men make gods, there is no God!
Life is a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.
Man's loneliness is but his fear of life.