The great mass of humanity should never learn to read or write.

The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men! Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?

That which one cannot experience in daily life is not true for oneself.

Shall I tell you what you have that other men don't?.... It's the courage of your own tenderness.

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

Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!

Thought is a man in his wholeness, wholly attending.