A worm wriggling in the grass excites my reverence more than all the gods men have invented.

One should live as if living were all that mattered.

Being passionate, naive, following one's whims, doing foolish things-that's what makes life worth living.

Life is just another form of fiction. We make it up as we go along.

What we call "life" is just another form of fiction. We make it up as we go along.

Life is never sterile, never static. Even when the air seems perfectly still great changes are taking place.

What do I know about life? What does a windmill know about the wind?

What a betrayal of life, of sense, to choose hate over love, despair over happiness.

How wonderful life is! How sad to squander it in bitterness, self-loathing and hate!