Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.

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Let us simmer over our incalculable cauldron, our enthralling confusion, our hotchpotch of impulses, our perpetual miracle - for the soul throws up wonders every second. Movement and change are the essence of our being; rigidity is death; conformity is death; let us say what comes into our heads, repeat ourselves, contradict ourselves, fling out the wildest nonsense, and follow the most fantastic fancies without caring what the world does or thinks or says. For nothing matters except life.

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I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.

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I feel all shadows of the universe multiplied deep inside my skin.

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The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.

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The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.

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Until we can comprehend the beguiling beauty of a single flower, we are woefully unable to grasp the meaning and potential of life itself.

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Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.

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Incessant company is as bad as solitary confinement.

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I am rooted, but I flow.

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