The world is what it is, no less and no more, and therein lies its entire and sufficient meaning.

It's all still there in heart and soul. The walk, the hills, the sky, the solitary pain and pleasure-they will grow larger, sweeter, lovelier in the days and years to come.

The ideal society can be described, quite simply, as that in which no man has the power of means to coerce others.

Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion.

For myself I hold no preferences among flowers, so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous. Bricks to all greenhouses! Black thumb and cutworm to the potted plant!

I would like to evoke the sense of wonder and magic in the reader but without invoking the mystical, the supernatural or the transcendent.

Anton Bruckner wrote the same symphony nine times, trying to get it just right. He failed.