With her eyes alone she could give this response, this absolutely erotic response, as if febrile waves were trembling there, pools of madness... something devouring that could lick a man all over like a flame, annihilate him, with a pleasure never known before.

When others asked the truth of me, I was convinced it was not the truth they wanted, but an illusion they could bear to live with.

I did not feel drawn to huxley. He was beautiful physically but again without vibrations or sensory antennae... and I had a painful impression of a psychic blindness. With all his science and knowledge, in the mystic world he blundered.

Worlds self made are so full of monsters and demons.

I am quite wiling to confide entirely in human being, except that at some moment or another human beings get preoccupied, moody, busy, inattentive, and there come an end to the interest, and this never happens in a journal!

Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy.

I don't tell the truth any more to those who can't make use of it. I tell it mostly to myself, because it always changes me.