And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

Hell is not in torture; Hell is in an empty heart.

Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed.

There is a space between man's imagination and man's attainment that may only be traversed by his longing.

My yearning is my cup, my burning thirst is my drink, and my solitude is my intoxication; I do not and shall not quench my thirst. But in this burning that is never extinguished is a joy that never wanes.

They tell me: If you see a slave sleeping, do not wake him lest he be dreaming of freedom. I tell them: If you see a slave sleeping, wake him and explain to him freedom.

For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks." Thus I became a madman.