There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.
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I hope to depart in no other way than looking back with love and wistfulness and thinking, oh paintings that I would have made..
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La tristesse durera toujours.]
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My great longing is to learn to make those very incorrectnesses, those deviations, remodellings, changes of reality, so that they may become, yes, unt...
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And the memories of all we have loved stay and come back to us in the evening of our life. They are not dead but sleep, and it is well to gather a tre...
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Well, what shall I say; our inward thoughts, do they ever show outwardly? There may be a great fire in our soul, but no one ever comes to warm himself...
