We are dancing in the hollow of nothingness. We are one flesh, but separated like stars.

It is almost banal to say so yet it needs to be stressed continually: all is creation, all is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis.

The poet speaks adequately only when he speaks somewhat wildly... not with intellect alone, but with intellect inebriated by nectar.

What I secretly longed for was to disentangle myself of all those lives which had woven themselves into the pattern of my own life and were making my destiny a part of theirs. To shake myself free of these accumulating experiences which were mine only by force of inertia required a violent effort. Now and then I lunged and tore at the net, but only to become more enmeshed. My liberation seemed to involve pain and suffering to those near and dear to me. Every move I made for my own private good brought about reproach and condemnation. I was a traitor a thousand times over.

To the man whose senses are alive and alert there is not even the need to stir from one's threshold.

Life has to be given a meaning because of the obvious fact that it has no meaning.

I have always looked upon decay as being just as wonderful and rich an expression of life as growth.