This one is particularly beautiful and profound, straight from the heart. When I first read it, I loved the fact that he needs solitude and time to think about Milena, but then when I read it the second time, something else struck me: when he says his office job is boring, his flat is stupid, but he feels he must not complain about his everyday reality because Milena is part of it too, and the gratefulness he feels for that: this moment which belongs to you: Letters To Milena

Paper, they say, does not blush, but I assure you it's not true and that it's blushing just as I am now, all over. The Karamazov Brothers

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth. The Critic as Artist

There are no grades of vanity, there are only grades of ability in concealing it. Mark Twain's Notebook