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Each time we enter imaginatively into the life of another, it's a small step upwards in the elevation of the human race.

When you think about it, the end of the world is a little bit like death: We all know it's going to come eventually, and as we get older, we feel we see the signs more and more distinctly.

It seems to me self-evident that if you have a life, things happen in it, and certain things do change; certain things end. People you know die.

Everything on earth is a game. A passing thing. We all end up dead. We all end up the same, don't we?

To become what we are capable of becoming is the only end in life.

To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end of life.

The world rolls round forever like a mill; it grinds out death and life and good and ill; it has no purpose, heart or mind or will.

I think the life we are living now is just a blink in the eye of eternity.