Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow; Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms; gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights; All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.

How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room with something more than furniture.

I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.

Life is not free from its forms.

The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.

To live in the world but outside of existing conceptions of it.

Civilization must be destroyed. The hairy saints of the North have earned this crumb by their complaints.