He was weary of himself, of cold ideas and brain dreams. Life a poem? Not when you went about forever poetizing about your own life instead of living it. How innocuous it all was, and...

And it all came to pass, all that she had hoped, but it did not fill her with rapture nor carry her away with the power or the fervor she had expected. She had imagined...

Break the ice, or draw that which lives in the dimness out into the full light of speech – what happens is the same: that which is now seen and now grasped is not, in...

For the first time his mind grasped the fact that when life has sentenced you to suffer, the sentence is neither a fancy nor a threat, but you are dragged to the rack, and you...

There was no style in nature.

Know ye not that there is here in this world a secret confraternity, which one might call the Company of Melancholiacs? That people there are who by natural constitution have been given a different nature...

Of what are you thinking now?” she asked.”I am thinking of myself.””That’s just what I am doing.””Are you also thinking of yourself?””No, of yourself—of you, Mogens.