I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, "Do not weep for me, This is not my true country, I have lived banished from my true country - I now go back there, I return to the celestial sphere where every one goes in his turn."

I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an encloser of things to be.

When one reaches out to help another he touches the face of God.

Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem.

I accept reality and dare not question it.

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.

And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.