Is not life in itself a thing of goodness, irrespective of whether the course it takes for us can be called a 'happy' one?

A lonely, quiet person has observations and experiences that are at once both more indistinct and more penetrating than those of one more gregarious; his thoughts are weightier, stranger, and never without a tinge of sadness. . . . Loneliness fosters that which is original, daringly and bewilderingly beautiful, poetic. But loneliness also fosters that which is perverse, incongruous, absurd, forbidden.

I tell them that if they will occupy themselves with the study of mathematics they will find in it the best remedy against the lusts of the flesh.

A solitary, unused to speaking of what he sees and feels, has mental experiences which are at once more intense and less articulate than those of a gregarious man.

If you are possessed by an idea, you find it expressed everywhere, you even smell it.

…What our age needs, what it demands, what it will create for itself, is—terror.

Art is the funnel, as it were, through which spirit is poured into life.