The great things in life are what they seem to be. And for that reason, strange as it may sound to you, often are very difficult to interpret (understand). Great passions are for the great of souls. Great events can only be seen by people who are on a level with them. We think we can have our visions for nothing. We cannot. Even the finest and most self-sacrificing visions have to be paid for. Strangely enough, that is what makes them fine.

Life is not complex. We are complex. Life is simple, and the simple thing is the right thing.

The things one feels absolutely certain about are never true. That is the fatality of faith, and the lesson of romance.

What is termed Sin is an essential element of progress. Without it the world would stagnate, or grow old, or become colorless. By its curiosity Sin increases the experience of the race. Through its intensified assertion of individualism it saves us from monotony of type. In its rejection of the current notions about morality, it is one with the higher ethics.

No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style.

The one charm of the past is that it is the past.

By doing just a little every day, I can gradually let the task completely overwhelm me.