One Must Die To Life In Order

There Were Profound Reasons For His Attachment To The Sea: He Loved It Because As A Hardworking Artist He Needed Rest, Needed To Escape From The Demanding Complexity Of Phenomena And Lie Hidden On The Bosom Of The Simple And Tremendous; Because Of A Forbidden Longing Deep Within Him That Ran Quite Contrary To His Life's Task And Was For That Very Reason Seductive, A Longing For The Unarticulated And Immeasurable, For Eternity, For Nothingness. To Rest In The Arms Of Perfection Is The Desire Of Any Man Intent Upon Creating Excellence; And Is Not Nothingness A Form Of Perfection?

(t)here Was A Story They Used To Tell At Home About A Girl Whose Punishment Was That Every Time She Opened Her Mouth, Snakes And Toads Came Out, Snakes And Toads With Every Word. The Book Didn't Say What She Did About It, But I've Always Assumed She Probably Ended Up Keeping Her Mouth Shut.

War Is Only A Cowardly Escape From The Problems Of Peace.

Is Not Life In Itself A Thing Of Goodness, Irrespective Of Whether The Course It Takes For Us Can Be Called A 'happy' One?

If You Are Possessed By An Idea, You Find It Expressed Everywhere, You Even Smell It.