It is frequently the tragedy of the great artist, as it is of the great scientist, that he frightens the ordinary man.

Life, unlike the inanimate, will take the long way round to circumvent barrenness. A kind of desperate will resides even in a root.

Like the herd animals we are, we sniff warily at the strange one among us.

Lights come and go in the night sky. Men, troubled at last by the things they build, may toss in their sleep and dream bad dreams, or lie awake while the meteors whisper greenly overhead. But nowhere in all space or on a thousand worlds will there be men to share our loneliness.

It has been said repeatedly that one can never, try as he will, get around to the front of the universe. Man is destined to see only its far side, to realize nature only in retreat.

I love forms beyond my own, and regret the borders between us

The freedom to create is somehow linked with facility of access to those obscure regions below the conscious mind.