We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.

Intense mutual erotic love, love which involves with the flesh all the most refined sexual being of the spirit, which reveals and perhaps even ex nihilo creates spirit as sex, is comparatively rare in this inconvenient world.

The chief requirement of the good life, is to live without any image of oneself.

Socrates wrote nothing. Christ wrote nothing.

No love is entirely without worth, even when the frivolous calls to the frivolous and the base to the base.

Art and psychoanalysis give shape and meaning to life and that is why we adore them, but life as it is lived has no shape and meaning.

The bottomless bitter misery of childhood: how little even now it is understood. Probably no adult misery can be compared with a child's despair.