I hate going to the gym and doing it the old-fashioned way. I hate anything that's too straightforward, too routine, too familiar. I get bored really, really quickly.

I feel like an aeroplane at the end of its flight, in the dusk, with the petrol running out, in search of a safe landing.

Curse ruthless time! Curse our mortality. How cruelly short is the allotted span for all we must cram into it!

I cannot believe in the immortality of the soul. No, all this talk of an existence for us, as individuals, beyond the grave is wrong. It is born of our tenacity of life - our desire to go on living - our dread of coming to an end.

In this world, hate never yet dispelled hate, only love dispels hate. This is the law, ancient and inexhaustible. You too shall pass away. Knowing this, how can you quarrel.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.