May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.

Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.

Picasso only registers the deformities which have not yet penetrated our consciousness. Art is a mirror which goes 'fast' like a watch - sometimes.

Knowledge we have. Anyone who strives for it with particular intensity is suspect of striving against it.

Expulsion from Paradise is in its main aspect eternal: that is to say, although expulsion from Paradise is final, and life in theworld unavoidable, the eternity of the process (or, expressed in temporal terms, the eternal repetition of the process) nevertheless makes it possible not only that we might remain in Paradise permanently, but that we may in fact be there permanently, no matter whether we know it here or not.

First impressions are always unreliable.

In argument similes are like songs in love; they describe much, but prove nothing.