You have to have something vicious in you to be a creative writersomething old-adamish, incompatible to the "ordinary world.

He who gets nearer the sun is leader, the aristocrat of aristocrats, or he who, like Dostoevsky, gets nearest the moon of our non-being.

No creature is fully itself till it is, like the dandelion, opened in the bloom of pure relationship to the sun, the entire living cosmos.

The world of men is dreaming, it has gone mad in its sleep, and a snake is strangling it, but it can't wake up.

The novel is the highest form of human expression so far attained. Why? Because it is so incapable of the absolute.

Can you understand how cruelly I feel the lack of friends who will believe in me a bit?

I would rather sit still in a state of peace on a stone than ride in the motor-car of a multi-millionaire and feel the peacelessness of the multi-millionaire poisoning me.