The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.

I know that I am intelligent, because I know that I know nothing.

I decided to sell my drawings. However, I didn't want people to buy my drawings because the professor of physics isn't supposed to be able to draw - isn't that wonderful - so I made up a false name.

I knew I belonged to the public and to the world, not because I was talented or even beautiful, but because I had never belonged to anything or anyone else.

It is a mania shared by philosophers of all ages to deny what exists and to explain what does not exist.