Nobody can have the soul of me. My mother has had, and nobody can have it again. Nobody can come into my very self again, and breathe me like an atmosphere.

Brute force crushes many plants. Yet the plants rise again. The Pyramids will not last a moment compared with the daisy. And before Buddha or Jesus spoke the nightingale sang, and long after the words of Jesus and Buddha are gone into oblivion the nightingale still will sing. Because it is neither preaching nor commanding nor urging. It is just singing. And in the beginning it was not a Word, but a chirrup.

Any novel of importance has a purpose. If only the "purpose" be large enough, and not at outs with the passional inspiration.

I can only see death and more death, till we are black and swollen with death.

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.

A snake came to my water trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pajamas for the heat, To drink there.

I am part of the sun as my eye is of me. That I am part of the earth my feet know perfectly, and my blood is part of the sea.