Važiavau ne tomis pačiomis gatvėmis, kuriomis vaikščiojo tądien praeiviai, o slidžia, liūdna ir švelnia praeitim. Beje, ji buvo sudaryta iš šitiekos skirtingų praeičių, kad man buvo sunku suvokti savo liūdesio priežastį <...>.

For often I have wished to see a person again without realising that it was simply because that personal recalled to me a hedge of hawthorns in blossom, and I have been led to believe, and to make someone else believe, in a renewal of affection, by what was no more than an inclination to travel.

Every individual who makes us suffer can be attached by us to a divinity of which he or she is a mere fragmentary reflexion, the lowest step in the ascent that leads to it, a divinity or an Idea which, if we turn to contemplate it, immediately gives us joy instead of the pain which we were feeling before — indeed the whole art of living is to make use of the individuals through whom we suffer as a step enabling us to draw nearer to the divine form which they reflect and thus joyously to people our lives with divinities.