Night, a more perfect day.

A place has almost the shyness of a person, with strangers; and its secret is not to be surprised by a too direct interrogation.

The mystic too full of God to speak intelligibly to the world.

It is in their eyes that their magic resides.

What we ask of him is, that he should find out for us more than we can find out for ourselves... He must have the passion of a lover.

Hardly any one is able to see what is before him, just as it is in itself. He comes expecting one thing, he finds another thing, he sees through the veil of his preconception, he criticizes before he has apprehended, he condemns without allowing his instinct the chance of asserting itself.

My soul is like this cloudy, flaming opal ring.