He Who Is Allowed To Do As

Time, Which Runs Through The World Like An Endless Tinsel Thread, Seemed To Pass Through The Centre Of This Room And Through The Centre Of These People And Suddenly To Pause And Petrify, Stiff, Still And Glittering... And The Objects In The Room Drew A Little Closer Together.

It Will Always Be The Same Possibilities, In Sum Or On The Average, That Go On Repeating Themselves Until A Man Comes Along Who Does Not Value The Actuality Above Idea. It Is He Who First Gives The New Possibilities Their Meaning, Their Direction, And He Awakens Them.

True' And 'false' Are The Evasions Of People Who Never Want To Arrive At A Decision. Truth Is Something Without End.

We Do Not Have Too Much Intellect And Too Little Soul, But Too Little Intellect In Matters Of The Soul.

Progress Would Be Wonderful - If Only It Would Stop.