The search for happiness ... always ends in the ghastly sense of the bottomless nothingness into which you will inevitably fall if you strain any further.

I shall always be a priest of love.

I cannot get any sense of an enemy - only of a disaster.

It's terrible, once you've got a man into your blood!" she said.

the more i live, the more i realize what strange creatures human beings are. some of them might just as well have a hundred legs, like a centipede, or six, like a lobster. the human consistency and dignity one has been led to expect from one's fellow-man seem actually non-existent. one doubts if they exist to any startling degree even in oneself.

A young man is afraid of his demon and puts his hand over the demon's mouth sometimes and speaks for him. And the things the young man says are very rarely poetry.

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