If you love someone, you are always joined with them – in joy, in absence, in solitude, in strife.

Wit is educated insolence.

Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.

"What was my body to me? A kind of flunkey in my service. Let but my anger wax hot, my love grow exalted, my hatred collect in me, and that boasted solidarity between me and my body was gone."

"What was my body to me? A kind of flunkey in my service. Let but my anger wax hot, my love grow exalted, my hatred collect in me, and that boasted solidarity between me and my body was gone."