But the artist persists because he has the will to create, and this is the magic power which can transform and transfigure and transpose and which will ultimately be transmitted to others.

Now that I am moving, I am afraid. Where am I going?

My diary seems to keep me whole.

The dream has to be translated into reality.

At first she beckoned and lured one into her world; then, she blurred the passageways, confused all the images, as if to elude detection.

I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret murmur of the earth itself.

Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.