To work is to live without dying.

Surely all art is the result of one's having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, where no one can go any further.

Whoever has no house now, will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone, will sit, read, write long letters through the evening, and wander on the boulevards, up and down, restlessly, while dry leaves are blowing.

Everything is gestation and bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity: that alone is living the artist's life.

the knowledge of impermanence that haunts our days is their very fragrance.

God... sat down for a moment when the dog was finished in order to watch it... and to know that it was good, that nothing was lacking, that it could not have been made better.

Those doves below, the ones utterly cared for, never endangered ones, cannot know tenderness.