My real self wanders elsewhere, far away, wanders on and on invisibly and has nothing to do with my life.

When we hate a person, what we hate in his image is something inside ourselves. Whatever isn't inside us can't excite us.

People know, or dimly feel, that if thinking is not kept pure and keen, and if respect for the world of mind is no longer operative, ships and automobiles will soon cease to run right, the engineer's slide rule and the computations of banks and stock exchanges will forfeit validity and authority, and chaos will ensue.

There is, so I believe, in the essence of everything, something that we cannot call learning. There is, my friend, only a knowledge - that is everywhere.

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

Each man carries the vestiges of his birth; the slime and eggshells of his primeval past with him to the end of his days. Some never become human, remaining frog, lizard, ant. Some are human above the waist, fish below.

Everyone can reach his goal, if he can think, wait and fast.