For now it seems that by advancing into unknown territories, I entered into my life

The farther behind I leave the past, the closer I am to forging my own character.

I will only ever be drawn to people who suffer from that special and fertile anguish called self-doubt, or the thirst for the ideal, and desire for the soul's mystical fire. Self-satisfaction because of some material accomplishment will never be for me. The truly great are those who quest for better spiritual selves.

While to live in the past and think of what was good and beautiful about it amounts to a sort of seasoning of the present, the perennial wait for tomorrow is bound to result in chronic discontent that poisons one's entire outlook.

Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.

The savage hatred I feel for crowds is getting worse, natural enemies that they are of imagination and of thought.

I think it is impossible for human minds to think of Death as a final, irrevocable end to life.