Put yourself out of your misery.

Nature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block.

It's a little silly to finally learn how to write at this age. But I long ago realized I was secretly sincere.

Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.

Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time.

The mind itself is an art object. It is a Mondrian canvas onto whose homemade grids it fits its own preselected products. Our knowledge is contextual and only contextual. Ordering and invention coincide: we call their collaboration knowledge.

The dear, stupid body is as easily satisfied as a spaniel.