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But the truth was that he died from solitude, the enemy known but to few on this Earth, and whom only the simplest of us are fit to withstand. The brilliant Costaguanaro of the boulevards had died from solitude and want of faith in himself and others.

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There is no credulity so eager and blind as the credulity of covetness, which, in its universal extent, measures the moral misery and the intellectual destitution of mankind.

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Having had to encounter single-handed during his period of eclipse many physical dangers, he was well aware of the most dangerous element common to them all: of the crushing, paralysing sense of human littleness, which is what really defeats a human struggling with natural forces, alone, far from the eyes of his fellows.

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Who could tell what forms, what visions, what faces, what forgiveness he could see in the glow of the west!

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Even against the greatest of odds, there is something in the human spirit- a magic blend of skill, faith, and valor- that can lift men from certain defeat to incredible victory.

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Measure your life in love.

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No other road, no other way, no day but today.

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Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.

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If our actions stem from honesty, kindness, caring, and vision, then no matter what the result of our efforts, we have added something of value to our souls and to the world.

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The true, prescriptive artist strives after artistic truth; the lawless artist, following blind instinct, after an appearance of naturalness. The one leads to the highest peaks of art, the other to its lowest depths.

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