Embrace your grief. For there, your soul will grow.

The pendulum of the mind alternates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong.

Not nature, but the "genius of mankind," has knotted the hangman's noose with which it can execute itself at any moment.

We can keep from a child all knowledge of earlier myths, but we cannot take from him the need for mythology.

We have forgotten the age-old fact that God speaks chiefly through dreams and visions.

It is my mind, with its store of images, that gives the world color and sound; and that supremely real and rational certainty which I can "experience" is, in its most simple form, an exceedingly complicated structure of mental images. Thus there is, in a certain sense, nothing that is directly experienced except the mind itself. Everything is mediated through the mind, translated, filtered, allegorized, twisted, even falsified by it. We are . . . enveloped in a cloud of changing and endlessly shifting images.

Art is a kind of innate drive that seizes a human being and makes him its instrument.