Beauty always had a purpose: to be of service to life.

Life is trouble. Only death is not. To be alive is to undo your belt and *look* for trouble.

How could I, who loved life so intensely, have let myself be entangled for so long in that balderdash of books and paper blackened with ink!

Go as far as you can. Go further than you can!

How does the light of a star set out and plunge into black eternity in its immortal course? The star dies, but the light never dies; such also is the cry of freedom.

By believing passionately in that which doesn't exist, you create it and that which has not been sufficiently desired is what we call the non existent.

I believe I'm a caterpillar buried deep down under the ground. The entire earth is above me, crushing me and I begin to bore through the soil, making a passage to the surface so that I can penetrate the crust and issue into the light. It's hard work boring through the entire earth, but I'm able to be patient because I have a strong premonition that as soon as I do issue into the light I shall become a butterfly.