Art is the contemplation of the world in a state of grace.

One must find the source within one's own Self, one must possess it. Everything else was seeking -- a detour, an error.

Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

Most men will not swim before they are able to.' Is not that witty? Naturally, they won't swim! They are born for the solid earth, not for the water. And naturally they won't think. They are made for life, not for thought. Yes, and he who thinks, what's more, he who makes thought his business, he may go far in it, but he has bartered the solid earth for the water all the same, and one day he will drown.

Let me say no more. Words do no justice to the hidden meaning. Everything immediately becomes slightly different when it is expressed in words, a little bit distorted, a little foolish...It is perfectly fine with me that what for one man is precious wisdom for another sounds like foolery.

Each man's life represents a road toward himself.

If time is not real, then the dividing line between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion.