Night, in which everything was lost, went reaching out, beyond stars and sun. Stars and sun, a few bright grains, went spiraling round for terror, and holding each other in embrace, there in a darkness that outpassed them all, and left them tiny and daunted. So much, and himself, infinitesimal, at the core of nothingness, and yet not nothing.

When each thing is unique in itself, there can be no comparison made.... There is only this strange recognition of present otherness.

Try to find your deepest issue in every confusion, and abide by that.

Every profound new movement makes a great swing also backwards to some older, half-forgotten way of consciousness.

Never set a child afloat on the flat sea of life with only one sail to catch the wind.

They say geniuses mostly have great mothers. They mostly have sad fates.

I never knew how soothing trees are-many trees and patches of open sunlight, and tree presences; it is almost like having another being.