For the last third of life there remains only work. It alone is always stimulating rejuvenating exciting and satisfying.

The want of logic annoys. Too much logic bores. Life eludes logic and everything that logic alone constructs remains artificial and forced.

I was a queen and you took away my crown a wife and you killed my husband a mother and you deprived me of my children. My blood alone remains: take it but do not make me suffer long.

What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.