Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together.

You live out the confusions until they become clear.

It takes courage to push yourself to places you have never been before... to test your limits... to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to stay tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

It is easy to love and there are so many ways to do it.

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.

I either eat too much or starve myself. Sleep for 14 hours or have insomniac nights. Fall in love very hard or hate passionately. I don't know what grey is. I never did.

In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.