To be great, be whole; Exclude nothing. Be whole in everything.

Sadly I write in my quiet room, alone as I have always been, alone as I will always be. And I wonder if my apparently negligible voice might not embody the essence of thousands of voices, the longing for self expression of thousands of lives, the patience of millions of souls resigned like my own to their daily lot, their useless dreams, and their hopeless hopes.

The startling reality of things is my discovery every single day.

The beauty of a naked body is felt only by the dressed races.

To love is to tire of being alone; it is therefore a cowardice, a betrayal of ourselves. (It is exceedingly important that we not love.)

I look at myself but I'm missing. I know myself: it’s not me.

I've never done anything but dream. This, and this alone, has been the meaning of my life. My only real concern has been my inner life.