I feel alone, free, and detached from everything in the world, and I'm happy.

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.

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

I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.

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.

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

For those who know the value of and exquisite taste of solitary freedom (for one is only free when alone), the act of leaving is the bravest and most beautiful of all.