Repeal All Laws Which Assume That Mankind

Dreams Are Imperfections Of Sleep; Even So Is Consciousness The Imperfection Of Waking. Dreams Are Impurities In The Circulation Of The Blood; Even So It's Consciousness A Disorder Of Life. Dreams Are Without Proportion, Without Good Sense, Without Truth; So Also Is Consciousness. Awake From Dream, The Truth Is Known: Awake From Waking. The Truth Is: The Unknown

What Is Necessary Is Not To Seek After Some Fantastic Ideal, Utterly Unsuited To Our Real Needs, But To Discover The True Nature Of Those Needs, To Fulfill Them, And Rejoice Therein.

The Nails From A Suicide's Coffin, And The Skull Of The Parricide, Were Of Course No Trouble; For Vesquit Never Traveled Without These Household Requisites.

If You Examine The Highest Poetry In The Light Of Common Sense, You Can Only Say That It Is Rubbish; And In Actual Fact You Cannot So Examine It At All, Because There Is Something In Poetry Which Is Not In The Words Themselves, Which Is Not In The Images Suggested By The Words 'o Windy Star Blown Sideways Up The Sky!' True Poetry Is Itself A Magic Spell Which Is A Key To The Ineffable.

Sit Still. Stop Thinking. Shut Up. Get Out! The First Two Of These Instructions Comprise The Whole Of The Technique Of Yoga. The Last Two Are Of A Sublimity Which It Would Be Improper To Expound In This Present Elementary Stage.