It is certain my belief gains quite infinitely the very moment I can convince another mind thereof

The art of writing books is not yet invented. But it is at the point of being invented. Fragments of this nature are literary seeds. There may be many an infertile grain among them: nevertheless, if only some come up!

The seat of the soul is where the inner world and the outer world meet. Where they overlap, it is in every point of the overlap.

In cheerful souls there is no wit. Wit shows a disturbance of the equipoise.

Where are we really going? Always home.

Philosophy is really nostalgia, the desire to be at home.

Humanity is the higher meaning of our planet, the nerve that connects this part of it with the upper world, the eye it raises to heaven.