Every Artist Is An Unhappy Lover.

Happiness Is A Matter Of One's Most Ordinary Everyday Mode Of Consciousness Being Busy And Lively And Unconcerned With Self.

We Must Live By The Light Of Our Own Self-satisfaction, Through That Secret Vital Busy Inwardness Which Is Even More Remarkable Than Our Reason.

I Feel Half Faded Away Like Some Figure In The Background Of An Old Picture.

Education Doesn’t Make You Happy. Nor Does Freedom. We Don’t Become Happy Just Because We’re Free – If We Are. Or Because We’ve Been Educated – If We Have. But Because Education May Be The Means By Which We Realize We Are Happy. It Opens Our Eyes, Our Ears, Tells Us Where Delights Are Lurking, Convinces Us That There Is Only One Freedom Of Any Importance Whatsoever, That Of The Mind, And Gives Us The Assurance – The Confidence – To Walk The Path Our Mind, Our Educated Mind, Offers.

... He Felt Himself To Be One Of Them, Who Can Live Neither In The World Nor Out Of It. They Are A Kind Of Sick People, Whose Desire For God Makes Them Unsatisfactory Citizens Of An Ordinary Life, But Whose Strength Or Temperament Fails Them To Surrender The World Completely; And Present-day Society, With Its Hurried Pace And Its Mechanical And Technical Structure, Offers No Home To These Unhappy Souls.