We are so placid that the smallest tremor of objection is taken as a full-scale revolution.

He who cries, 'What do I care about universality? I only know what is in me,' does not know even that.

Life is that which - pressingly, persistently, unfailingly, imperially - interrupts.

I'm not afraid of facts, I welcome facts but a congeries of facts is not equivalent to an idea. This is the essential fallacy of the so-called "scientific" mind. People who mistake facts for ideas are incomplete thinkers; they are gossips.

Awe consumes any brand that ignites it.

Wars, invented and organized by the highest available consciousnesses (do the worms go to war? do the fish? do the paramecia?), are the planet's chief source and cause of torment.

I read in order to write. I read out of obsession with writing.