The east is not for me--the sensuous spiritual voluptuousness, the curious sensitiveness of the naked people, their black, bottomless, hopeless eyes.

The horse, the horse! The symbol of surging potency and power of movement, of action.

If it be not true to me, What care I how true it be.. Though it be not true to thee, It's gay and gospel truth to me.

While we live, let us live.

I should feel the air move against me, and feel the things I touched, instead of having only to look at them. I'm sure life is all wrong because it has become much too visual - we can neither hear nor feel nor understand, we can only see. I'm sure that is entirely wrong.

The dead don't die. They look on and help.

At the back of my life's horizon, where the dreamings of past lives crowd.