Difficulties are what makes it honorable and interesting to be alive.

Another secret we carry is that though drab outside - wreckage to the eye, mirrors a mortification - inside we flame with a wild life that is almost incommunicable.

Life does not acommodate you, it shatters you. It is meant to, and it couldn't do it better. Every seed destroys its container or else there would be no fruition.

Anger must be the energy that has not yet found its fight channel.

Making those we love happy sounds innocent as a dove, but it can be as destructive as a lion.

Is life a pregnancy? That would make death a birth.

In very truth the days are almost free, and if it is another way of saying that our lives are empty, well -- there are days when emptiness is spacious, and non-existence elevating . . .