Women must destroy in themselves, the desire to be loved-

Poetry is prose bewitched, a music made of visual thoughts, the sound of an idea.

The flux of life is pouring its aesthetic aspect into your eyes, your ears - and you ignore it because you are looking for your canons of beauty in some sort of frame or glass case or tradition.

LOVE of others is the appreciation of one's self. MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you comprise mankind in your self-sympathy.

Life is only limited by our prejudices. Destroy them, and you cease to be at the mercy of yourself.

There is no Space or Time Only intensity, And tame things Have no immensity

Another great illusion that woman must ... destroy . .. is the impurity of sex, the realisation in defiance of superstition that there is nothing impure in sex - except in the mental attitude toward it.