In every man there is a hidden child which is called the urge to create and he prefers as play things and serious things not the miniature ships, recreated in the minutest detail, but the walnutshell with a bird feather as mast and sail and a pebble as the captain. He also wants to be able to participate and to co-create in art, rather than being simply an admiring viewer. For this "child in man" is the immortal creator within him.

Often I am struck in amazement about a word: I suddenly realize that the complete arbitrariness of our language is but a part of the arbitrariness of our own world in general.

If modern civilization man had to kill the animals he eats, the number of vegetarians would rise astronomically.

Woe to humanity, should only a single animal have a seat in the Last Judgement.

It is one of the oddest things in the world that you can read a page or more and think of something utterly different.

The hidden child wants to be able to participate and to co-create in art, rather than being simply an admiring viewer.

Home is not where you live but where they understand you.