The end (goal) of art is to figure the hidden meaning of things and not their appearance; for in this profound truth lies their true reality, which does not appear in their external outlines.

You can't breathe dead hippo waking, sleeping, and eating, and at the same time keep your precarious grip on existence.

It occurred to me that my speech or my silence, indeed any action of mine, would be a mere futility.

He struggled with himself, too. I saw it -- I heard it. I saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear, yet struggling blindly with itself.

It is a maudlin and indecent verity that comes out through the strength of wine.

She feared the unknown as we all do, and her ignorance made the unknown infinitely vast.

The conquest of the earth... is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much. What redeems it is the idea only... not a sentimental pretence but an idea.