We never know we are beings till we love. And then it is we know the powers and potentialities of human existence.

Whatever I believed, I did; I did with my whole heart and mind as far as possible to do so.

Perhaps . . . our lot on the earth is to seek and to search. Now and again we find just enough to enable us to carry on. I now doubt that any of us will completely find and be found in this life.

There is no such thing as happiness. Life bends joy and pain, beauty and ugliness, in such a way that no one may isolate them. No one should want to. Perfect joy, or perfect pain, with no contrasting element to define them, would mean a monotony of consciousness, would mean death

Fear is a noose that binds until it strangles.

It takes a well-spent lifetime, and perhaps more, to crystalize in us that for which we exist.

I am not less poet; I am more conscious of all that I am, am not, and might become.