I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.

How ravished one could be without ever being touched. Ravished by dead words become obscene and dead ideas become obsessions.

I shall always be a priest of love.

If it be not true to me, What care I how true it be.. Though it be not true to thee, It's gay and gospel truth to me.

The horse, the horse! The symbol of surging potency and power of movement, of action.

Unless one decorates one's house for oneself alone, best leave it bare, for other people are walleyed.

Hate's a growing thing like anything else. It's the inevitable outcome of forcing ideas onto life, of forcing one's deepest instincts; our deepest feelings we force according to certain ideas.