Let there be an end ... of all this welter of pity, which is only self-pity reflected onto some obvious surface.

She is my first, great love. She was a wonderful, rare woman - you do not know; as strong, and steadfast, and generous as the sun. She could be as swift as a white whiplash, and as kind and gentle as warm rain, and as steadfast as the irreducible earth beneath us.

God how I hate new countries: They are older than the old, more sophisticated, much more conceited, only young in a certain puerile vanity more like senility than anything.

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

Never trust the teller, trust the tale.

... he preferred his own madness, to the regular sanity. He rejoiced in his own madness, he was free. He did not want that old sanity of the world, which was become so repulsive. He rejoiced in the new-found world of his madness. It was so fresh and delicate and so satisfying.

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.