The human consciousness is really homogeneous. There is no complete forgetting, even in death.
Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.
Men and women should stay apart, till their hearts grow gentle towards one another again.
I hate the actor and audience business. An author should be in among the crowd, kicking their shins or cheering them on to some mischief or merriment.
Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken.
I can't bear art that you can walk round and admire. A book should be either a bandit or a rebel or a man in the crowd.
The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot.
Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion.
I can't do with mountains at close quarters - they are always in the way, and they are so stupid, never moving and never doing anything but obtrude themselves.
I believe that a man is converted when first he hears the low, vast murmur of life, of human life, troubling his hitherto unconscious self.
It is quite true, as some poets said, that the God who created man must have had a sinister sense of humor, creating him a reasonable being, yet forcing him to take this ridiculous posture, and driving him with blind craving for this ridiculous performance.
The day of the absolute is over, and we're in for the strange gods once more.
I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts, or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
How beautiful maleness is, if it finds its right expression.
Never trust the artist. Trust the tale. The proper function of the critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.
Psychoanalysis is out, under a therapeutic disguise, to do away entirely with the moral faculty in man.
Loud peace propaganda makes war seem imminent.
There is only one thing that a man really wants to do, all his life; and that is, to find his way to his God, his Morning Star, salute his fellow man, and enjoy the woman who has come the long way with him.
My God, these folks don't know how to love - that's why they love so easily.
Towns oftener swamp one than carry one out onto the big ocean of life.
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread.