What can any of us do with his talent but try to develop his vision, so that through frequent failures we may learn better what we have missed in the past.

Time is a storm in which we are all lost.

For the beginning is assuredly the end- since we know nothing, pure and simple, beyond our own complexities.

A new world is only a new mind.

Outside, the north wind, coming and passing, swelling and dying, lifts the frozen sand drives it a-rattle against the lidless windows and we may dear sit stroking the cat stroking the cat and smiling sleepily, prrrr.

Death will be too late to bring us aid.

The perfect type of the man of action is the suicide.