Life is a sheet of paper white / Whereon each one of us may write / His word or two, and then comes night.

Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.

Fate loves the fearless.

The devil loves nothing better than the intolerance of reformers.

All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action.

One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning.

Light is the symbol of truth.

A weed is no more than a flower in disguise.

Compromise makes a good umbrella, but a poor roof.

The brain can be easy to buy, but the heart never comes to market.

Each day the world is born anew for him who takes it rightly.

Your vision is a glimpse of your purpose and a picture of your larger dream.

That Woman is in love with her own grief.

Happiness lies in the consciousness we have of it.

I'm very clever at hiding poems perhaps more clever than I am at writing them.

I'm not a very good painter, but I'm learning a lot.

This is not the case. There is nothing that is not the Self. The Self does not have to be realized.

Agents are essential, because publishers will not read unsolicited manuscripts.

A taste so profound and complex that it can't even be compared to other tastes, only to emotions. Cheesy waffles, I was thinking, tastes like love without the fear of love's dissolution.

If sexuality is one dimension of our ability to live passionately in the world then in cutting off our sexual feelings we diminish our overall power to feel know and value deeply.

Life I love you, all is groovy.