THE SLOW ARROW OF BEAUTY. The noblest kind of beauty is that which does not transport us suddenly, which does not make stormy and intoxicating impressions such a kind easily arouses disgust but that which slowly filters into our minds.

Those with very loud voices in their throats are nearly incapable of thinking subtle thoughts.

Without myth, however, every culture loses its healthy creative natural power: it is only a horizon encompassed with myth that rounds off to unity a social movement.

What do you regard as most humane? To spare someone shame.

How lovely it is that there are words and sounds. Are not words and sounds rainbows and illusive bridges between things which are eternally apart?

He who is not a bird should not build his nest over abysses.

Why does man not see things? He is himself standing in the way: he conceals things.