All that we know is nothing, we are merely crammed wastepaper baskets, unless we are in touch with that which laughs at all our knowing.

And it seems to me a blasphemy to say that the Holy Spirit is Love. In the Old Testament it is an Eagle: in the New it is a Dove.Christ insists on the Dove: but in His supreme moments He includes the Eagle.

America exhausts the springs of one's soul - I suppose that's what it exists for. It lives to see all real spontaneity expire. But anyhow it doesn't grind on an old nerve as Europe seems to.

[U]nless a woman is held, by man, safe within the bounds of belief, she becomes inevitably a destructive force.

The world of men is dreaming, it has gone mad in its sleep, and a snake is strangling it, but it can't wake up.

That is almost the whole of Russian literature: the phenomenal coruscations of the souls of quite commonplace people.

Build then the ship of death, for you must take the longest journey, to oblivion.