However tall trouble is, man must make himself taller still, even if it means making stilts.

It is always the same forest, always as dense as ever. And so, my son, put aside the branches as best you can, that’s all.

The place had a kind of mistery, as if, in some long distant past, it had been inhabited by men who knew how to rejoice in rivers, trees, and sky.

Behind one pain there is another. Sorrow is a wave without end. But the horse mustn’t ride you, you must ride it.

Here, like everywhere else, laughing and singing, dancing and dreaming are not exactly the whole of reality; and for one ray of sun shining on the hut, the rest of the village remains in the dark.

There is the churning and the boiling of the sea, and the foam on top of it and that is what man is, churning and foam together.

Every day you must arise and say to your heart, I have suffered enough and now I must live because the light of the sun must not be wasted, it must not be lost without an eye to appreciate it.

Only the knife knows what goes on in the heart of a pumpkin.

Men are strong, women are smart, but no matter how smart, their bellies are always there to betray women and that's their downfall.

All rivers, even the most dazzling, those that catch the sun in their course, all rivers go down to the ocean and drown. And life awaits man as the sea awaits the river.