The suppression of inner patterns in favor of patterns created by society is dangerous to us.

Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.

Death from disillusion is not instantaneous, and there are no mercy killers for the disillusioned.

Human beings can reach such desperate solitude that they may cross a boundary beyond which words cannot serve, and at such moments there is nothing left for them but to bark.

The struggle to emerge out of the past, clean of memories; the inadequacy of our hearts to cut life into separate and final portions; the pain of this constant ambivalence and interrelation of emotions; the hunger for frontiers against which we might learn as upon closed doors before we proceed forward; the struggle against diffusion, new beginnings, against finality in acts without finality or end, in our cursedly repercussive being.

How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.

Our age has need of violence," he writes. And he is violence.