Civilization must be destroyed. The hairy saints of the North have earned this crumb by their complaints.
All of our ideas come from the natural world: trees equal umbrellas.
The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book.
We live in an old chaos of the sun.
Conceptions are artificial. Perceptions are essential.
Life is an affair of people not of places. But for me, life is an affair of places and that is the trouble.