The word is the making of the world

I am the truth, since I am part of what is real, but neither more nor less than those around me.

Life is the elimination of what is dead.

in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.

Realism is a corruption of reality.

Just as my fingers on these keys make music, so the self-same sounds on my spirit make a music too.

You like it under the trees in autumn, because everything is half dead. The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves and repeats words without menaing.