And that is ... how they are. So terribly physically all over one another. They pour themselves one over the other like so much melted butter over parsnips. They catch each other under the chin, with a tender caress of the hand, and they smile with sunny melting tenderness into each other's face.

Not that the Red Indian will ever possess the broad lands of America. At least I presume not. But his ghost will.

the more i live, the more i realize what strange creatures human beings are. some of them might just as well have a hundred legs, like a centipede, or six, like a lobster. the human consistency and dignity one has been led to expect from one's fellow-man seem actually non-existent. one doubts if they exist to any startling degree even in oneself.

There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street.

For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.

The final aim is not to know, but to be.... You've got to know yourself so that you can at last be yourself. "Be yourself" is the last motto.

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