Who has not sat before his own heart's curtain? It lifts: and the scenery is falling apart.

O how all things are far removed and long have passed away. I do believe the star, whose light my face reflects, is dead and has been so for many thousand years. I had a vision of a passing boat and heard some voices saying disquieting things. I heard a clock strike in some distant house... but in which house?... I long to quiet my anxious heart and stand beneath the sky's immensity. I long to pray... And one of all the stars must still exist. I do believe that I would know which one alone endured, and which like a white city stands at the ray's end shining in the heavens.

Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them.

No one can advise and help you, no one. There is only one way: go within.

I am touched by your beautiful anxiety about life.

The deepest experience of the creator is feminine, for it is experience of receiving and bearing.

Swells, Marina? we ocean, depths, Marina? we sky!