The life of the artist should be distinguished from that of all other people, even in external habits. They are Brahmins, a higher caste, not ennobled by birth, however, but through deliberate self-initiation.

Philosophy still moves too much straight ahead, and is not yet cyclical enough.

Wit is an explosion of the compound spirit.

Without poetry, religion becomes obscure, false, and malignant; without philosophy, licentious in all wantonness, and lascivious to the point of self-castration.

One can only become a philosopher, but not be one. As one believes he is a philosopher, he stops being one.

Wit is absolutely sociable spirit or aphoristic genius.

Every complete man has his genius. True virtue is genius.