The so-called paradoxes of an author, to which a reader takes exception, often exist not in the author's book at all, but rather in the reader's head.

Men have hitherto treated women like birds which have strayed down to them from the heights; as something more delicate, more fragile, more savage, stranger, sweeter, soulful--but as something which has to be caged up so that it shall not fly away.

When you gaze long into the Abyss of Sustainability, the Abyss of Sustainability also gazes into you.

Being human is a complicated gig. So give that ol' dark night of the soul a hug. Howl the eternal yes!

A labyrinthine man never seeks the truth, but only his Ariadne.

Wherever progress is to ensue, deviating natures are of greatest importance.

To our strongest impulse, to the tyrant in us, not only our reason but also our conscience yields.