We Cannot Pluck A Flower Witout Disturbing

If There Is Magic On This Planet, It Is Contained In Water.

It Is Commonplace Of All Religious Thought That The Man Seeking Visions And Insight Must Go Apart From His Fellows And Live For A While In The Wilderness. If He Is Of Proper Sort, He Will Return With A Message. It May Not Be A Message From The God He Set Out To Seek But Even If He Has Failed In That Particular, He Will Have Had A Vision Or Seen A Marvel And These Are Always Worth Listening To Or Thinking About.

The Secret, If One May Paraphrase A Savage Vocabulary, Lies In The Egg Of Night.

We Are Rag Dolls Made Out Of Many Ages And Skins, Changelings Who Have Slept In Wood Nests, And Hissed In The Uncouth Guise Of Waddling Amphibians. We Have Played Such Roles For Infinitely Longer Ages Than We Have Been Human. Our Identity Is A Dream. We Are Process, Not Reality.

Subconsciously The Genius Is Feared As An Image Breaker; Frequently He Does Not Accept The Opinions Of The Mass, Or Man's Opinion Of Himself.