There is a sixth sense, the natural religious sense, the sense of wonder.

Reach me a gentian, give me a torch! Let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of a flower down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark.

Away with all ideals. Let each individual act spontaneously from the forever incalculable prompting of the creative wellhead within him. There is no universal law.

The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.

Mankind has got to get back to the rhythm of the cosmos.

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

As we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction