Oh, what a catastrophe for man when he cut himself off from the rhythm of the year, from his unison with the sun and the earth. Oh, what a catastrophe, what a maiming of love when it was a personal, merely personal feeling, taken away from the rising and the setting of the sun, and cut off from the magic connection of the solstice and the equinox!

The one woman who never gives herself is your free woman, who is always giving herself.

Consciousness is an end in itself. We torture ourselves getting somewhere, and when we get there it is nowhere, for there is nowhere to get to.

Europe is, perhaps, the least worn-out of the continents, because it is the most lived in. A place that is lived in lives.

Eat and carouse with Bacchus, or munch dry bread with Jesus, but don't sit down without one of the gods.

The world fears a new experience more than it fears anything. Because a new experience displaces so many old experiences. . . . The world doesn't fear a new idea. It can pigeon-hole any idea. But it can't pigeon-hole a real new experience.

One sheds one's sicknesses in books - repeats and presents again one's emotions, to be master of them.