There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.

I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.

Violence is a symptom of impotence.

I am aware of being in a beautiful prison, from which I can only escape by writing.

The love of only one man or one woman is an enclosure.

perhaps the only magician we have is the artist.

A trite word is an overused word which has lost its identity like an old coat in a second-hand shop. The familiar grows dull and we no longer see, hear, or taste it.