It was surprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on with her golden process in the midst of so much devilment.

In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, ‘Is it good, friend?’ ‘It is bitter — bitter,’ he answered, ‘But I like it Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart.

He saw that it was an ironical thing for him to be running thus toward that which he had been at such pains to avoid.

Half of tradition is a lie.

Everything is bicycle.

Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature.

If I am going to be drowned – if I am going to be drowned – if I am going to be drowned, why in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate land and trees?