The war is dreadful. It is the business of the artist to follow it home to the heart of the individual fighters - not to talk in armies and nations and numbers - but to track it home.

I'd wipe the machines off the face of the earth again, and end the industrial epoch absolutely, like a black mistake.

If it doesn't absorb you, if it isn't any fun, don't do it.

I believe that there was a great age, a great epoch when man did not make war: previous to 2000 B.C. Then the self had not reallybecome aware of itself, it had not separated itself off, the spirit was not yet born, so there was no internal conflict, and hence no permanent external conflict.

One man isn't any better than another, not because they are equal, but because they are intrinsically other, that there is no termof comparison.

Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!

Whatever a human being makes and makes live, it lives because of the life he puts into it.