The full and joyful acceptance of the worst in oneself may be the only sure way of transforming it.

Even the idiot may have a message for us

That we cannot rise equal to situations when we are in them — that is the tragedy of life.

The light of Greece opened my eyes, penetrated my pores, expanded my whole being.

And there is a time, glorious too in its own way, when one scarcely exists, when one is a complete void. I mean, when boredom seems the very stuff of life.

Life, as it is called, is for most of us one long postponement.

To love! To surrender absolutely, to prostrate oneself before the divine image, to die a thousand imaginary deaths, to annihilate every trace of self, to find the whole universe embodied and enshrined in the living image of another! Adolescent, we say. Rot! This is the germ of the future life, the seed which we hide away, which we bury deep within us, which we smother and stifle and do our utmost to destroy as we advance from one experience to another and flutter and flounder and lose our way.