Works of Art are of an infinite loneliness.

Don't take my devils away, because my angels may flee too.

Do you remember how life yearned out of childhood toward the "great thing?" I see that it is now yearning forth beyond the great thing toward the greater one.

Speaking of August Rodin: He raised his world above us in an immense arc, and made it a part of nature.

I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.

If there is nothing you can share with other people, try to be close to Things, they will not abandon you; and the nights are still here and the winds that move through the trees and across many lands; everything in the world of Things and animals is still filled with happening, which you can take part in.

True singing is a different breath, about nothing.