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Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.

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Why had it been left for a stranger to reveal him to himself?

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My great mistake the fault for which I can't forgive myself is that one day I ceased my obstinate pursuit of my own individuality.

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The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star b...more

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Lady Bracknell, I hate to seem inquisitive, but would you kindly inform me who I am?

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In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and facts, in the silly hope of keep...more

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To realise one's nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for.