The mists remain of the false glory that erupts from history.

The moment love is equated with happiness, it is satisfied — and is no longer love. The satisfied, the happy ones, do not love; they fall asleep in habit, near neighbor to annihilation.

Everything that exalts and expands consciousness is good, while that which depresses and diminishes it is evil.

Fascism is cured by reading, and racism is cured by traveling

What is vanity but the longing to survive?

The tears of anguish irritate and excite; but those of repentance are the ones that wash.

Chemistry ought to be not for chemists alone.