I am a house gutted by fire where only the guilty sometimes sleep before the punishment that devours them hounds them out in the open.

A birdsong can even, for a moment, make the whole world into a sky within us, because we feel that the bird does not distinguish between its heart and the world's.

Whoever now makes himself bigger, freer and more human in his own existence, is doing his part toward peace, — as yet it must be worked at in an inward direction, not until a few have it all big and ready within them can it let itself be brought into the world.

Everyone once, once only. Just once and no more. And we also once. Never again. But this having been once, although only once, to have been of the earth, seems irrevocable.

Rose, oh pure contradiction, joy of being No-one's sleep under so many lids.

He who understands one thing understands everything, for the same laws are in all.

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