Man would be "otherwise." That's the essence of the specifically human.

The truly erotic sensibility, in evoking the image of woman, never omits to clothe it. The robing and disrobing: that is the true traffic of love.

Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt - marvellous error! - That it was God I had here inside my heart.

Life is the path you beat while you walk it It's the walking that beats the path It is not the path that makes the walk

Man would be "otherwise." That's the essence of the specifically human.

The absence of vices adds so little to the sum of one's virtues.

Wayfarer, the only way is your footsteps, there is no other. Wayfarer, there is no way, you make the way as you go. As you go, you make the way and stopping to look behind, you see the path that your feet will never travel again. Wayfarer, there is no way- Only foam trails to the sea.