Only love can be divided endlessly and still not diminish.

For it is not merely the trivial which clutters our lives but the important as well

It is terribly amusing how many different climates of feelings one can go through in one day.

If one is estranged from oneself, then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others.

The intellectual is constantly betrayed by his vanity. Godlike he blandly assumes that he can express everything in words; whereas the things one loves, lives, and dies for are not, in the last analysis completely expressible in words.

Everything today has been heavy and brown. Bring me a Unicorn to ride about the town.

There comes a moment when the things one has written, even a traveler's memories, stand up and demand a justification. They require an explanation. They query, 'Who am I? What is my name? Why am I here?