All progress in literary style lies in the heroic resolve to cast aside accretions and exuberances, all the conventions of a past age that were once beautiful because alive and are now false because dead.

What we call 'morals' is simply blind obedience to words of command.

It is on our failures that we base a new and different and better success.

Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretence of keeping it alive.

All arguments are meaningless until we gain personal experience. One must win one's own place in the spiritual world painfully and alone. There is no other way of salvation. The Promised Land always lies on the other side of a wilderness.

No act can be quite so intimate as the sexual embrace.

When love is suppressed hate takes its place.