The mountains were his masters. They rimmed in life. They were the cup of reality, beyond growth, beyond struggle and death. They were his absolute unity in the midst of eternal change.

I have to see a thing a thousand times before I see it once.

The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious phenomenon, is the central and inevitable fact of human existence.

Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We'll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure.

O lost, And by the wind grieved, Ghost, Come back again.

Is this not the true romantic feeling; not to desire to escape life, but to prevent life from escaping you.

There is one voyage, the first, the last, the only one.