No absolute is going to make the lion lie down with the lamb unless the lamb is inside. |
No man is or can be purely individual. The mass of men have only the tiniest touch of individuality: if any. The mass of men live and move, think and feel collectively, and have practically no individual emotions, feelings or thoughts at all. They ar |
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! / A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time. |
Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas! |
Oh the innocent girl in her maiden teens knows perfectly well what everything means |
Once you abstract from this, once you generalize and postulate Universals, you have departed from the creative reality, and entered the realm of static fixity, mechanism, materialism. |
One can no longer live with people: it is too hideous and nauseating. Owners and owned, they are like the two sides of a ghastly disease. |
One could laugh at the world better if it didn't mix tender kindliness with its brutality. |
One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it... and the journey is always towards the other soul. |
One sheds one's sicknesses in books--repeats and presents again one's emotions, to be master of them. |
One's action ought to come out of an achieved stillness: not to be mere rushing on. |
Only in a novel are all things given full play |
Only now it had become indispensable to him to have her face pressed close to him; he could never let her go again. He could never let her head go away from the close clutch of his arm. He wanted to remain like that for ever, with his heart hurting him in a pain that was also life to him. |
Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. |
People always make war when they say they love peace |