Love is the hastening gravitation of spirit towards spirit, and body towards body, in the joy of creation.

Whatever a human being makes and makes live, it lives because of the life he puts into it.

Oh, what a catastrophe for man when he cut himself off from the rhythm of the year, from his unison with the sun and the earth. Oh, what a catastrophe, what a maiming of love when it was a personal, merely personal feeling, taken away from the rising and the setting of the sun, and cut off from the magic connection of the solstice and the equinox!

Where the electron behaves and misbehaves as it will, where the forces tie themselves up into knots of atoms and come united.

The purest lesson our era has taught is that man, at his highest, is an individual, single, isolate, alone, in direct soul-communication with the unknown God, which prompts within him.

Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it! For you will need it. For the voyage of oblivion awaits you.

I'd be ashamed to see a woman walking around with my name-label on her, address and railway station, like a wardrobe trunk.