Every thought vibrates through the universe.
The better you hear a thing put, the more certain you are there's another view.
In the midst of the happiness they brought there was always a lurking shadow. The shadow of incompatibility; of the impossibility of being at once bound and free. The garden breeds a longing for the wild; the wild a homesickness for the garden.
Death must be got through as life had been, just somehow.
Life ought to be lived on a basis of silence, where truth blossoms.
It will all go on as long as women are stupid enough to go on bringing men into the world. . .