Life has now taught me that love for things, like all unrequited love, takes its toll in the long run.
Perhaps we always want the person we love, to have the existence of a ghost.
People love nobody as much as they do their hatred.
I believe we lose immortality because we have not conquered our opposition to death; we keep insisting on the primary, rudimentary idea: that the whole body should be kept alive. We should seek to preserve only the part that has to do with consciousness.
The sea is endless when you are in a rowboat.
The body is imaginary, and we bow to the tyranny of a phantom. Love is a privilege perception, the most total and lucid not only of the unreality of the world but of our own unreality: not only do we traverse a realm of shadows; but ourselves are shadows.