I believe the nearest I've come to perfect love was with a young coal-miner when I was about 16.

What the eye doesn't see and the mind doesn't know, doesn't exist.

If you believe in your own sex, and won't have it done dirt to: they'll down you. It's the one insane taboo left: sex as a naturaland vital thing.

I can't do with mountains at close quarters - they are always in the way, and they are so stupid, never moving and never doing anything but obtrude themselves.

If it doesn't absorb you, if it isn't any fun, don't do it.

I'd wipe the machines off the face of the earth again, and end the industrial epoch absolutely, like a black mistake.

Why has mankind had such a craving to be imposed upon? Why this lust after imposing creeds, imposing deeds, imposing buildings, imposing language, imposing works of art? The thing becomes an imposition and a weariness at last. Give us things that are alive and flexible, which won't last too long and become an obstruction and a weariness. Even Michelangelo becomes at last a lump and a burden and a bore. It is so hard to see past him.