Necessary, forever necessary, to burn out false shames and smelt the heaviest ore of the body into purity.

The Sphinx-riddle. Solve it, or be torn to bits, is the decree.

Men are free when they belong to a living, organic, believing community, active in fulfilling some unfulfilled, perhaps unrealized purpose.

Every new stroke of civilization has cost the lives of countless brave men, who have fallen defeated by the dragon, in their efforts to win the apples of the Hesperides, or the fleece of gold. Fallen in their efforts to overcome the old, half sordid savagery of the lower stages of creation, and win the next stage.

Don't you find it a beautiful clean thought, a world empty of people, just uninterrupted grass, and a hare sitting up?

If you cut a thing up, of course it will smell. Hence, nothing raises such an infernal stink at last, as human psychology.

Nobody knows you. You don't know yourself. And I, who am half in love with you, What am I in love with? My own imaginings?