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When you’re 50 you start thinking about things you haven’t thought about before. I used to think getting old was about vanity – but actually it’s about losing people you love. Getting wrinkles is trivial.

Life is for each man a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.

The long day wanes: the slow, sweet evening of love has come.

Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.

Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace.

One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers.

When men make gods, there is no God!

Life is a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.

I love every bone in their heads.

Man’s loneliness is but his fear of life.