What happiness this is: to fly, skimming over the earth just as we do in our dreams! Life has become a dream. Can this be the meaning of paradise?

By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.

You have your brush, you have your colors, you paint the paradise, then in you go.

This, I thought, is how great visionaries and poets see everything- as if for the first time. Each morning they see a new world before their eyes; they do not really see it, they create it.

Throughout my life, my greatest benefactors have been my dreams and my travels; very few men, living or dead, have helped me in my struggle.

The truth is that we all are one, that all of us together create god, that god is not man's ancestor, but his descendant.

Once more I realized to what an extent earthly happiness is made to the measure of man. It is not a rare bird which we must pursue at one moment in heaven, at the next in our minds. Happiness is a domestic bird found in our own courtyards.