To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth—I count that something of a miracle.

For some reason or other man looks for the miracle, and to accomplish it he will wade through blood. He will debauch himself with ideas, he will reduce himself to a shadow if for only one second of his life he can close his eyes to the hideousness of reality. Everything is endured-disgrace, humiliation, poverty, war, crime, ennui-in the belief that overnight something will occur, a miracle, which will render life tolerable.

I see America spreading disaster. I see America as a black curse upon the world. I see a long night settling in and that mushroom which has poisoned the world withering at the roots.

For there is only one great adventure and that is inward toward the self, and for that, time nor space nor even deeds matter.

I don't think we should read for instruction but to give our souls a chance to luxuriate.

The imperfections of a man, his frailties, his faults, are just as important as his virtues.You can't separate them. They're wedded.

In expanding the field of knowledge we but increase the horizon of ignorance.