“Philosophy is really nostalgia, the desire to be at home.”

Character and fate are two words for the same thing.

The artist stands on the human being as a statue does on a pedestal.

We are more closely connected to the invisible than to the visible.

Nature is an aeolian harp, a musical instrument whose tones are the re-echo of higher strings within us.

There is an energy which springs from sickness and debility: it has a more powerful effect than the real, but, sadly, expires in an even greater infirmity.

A hero is one who knows how to hang on one minute longer.

If the world is a precipitation of human nature, so to speak, then the divine world is a sublimation of the same. Both occur in one act. No precipitation without sublimation. What goes lost there in agility, is won here.

You are alone with everything you love.

One can not understand language because language cannot understand itself; does not want to understand.

A God-intoxicated man.

The highest purpose of intellectual cultivation is to give a man a perfect knowledge and mastery of his own inner self.

In a work of art, chaos must shimmer through the veil of order.

We never completely comprehend ourselves, but we can do far more than comprehend.

Man is a sun and his senses are the planets.

Every beloved object is the center point of a paradise.

Hypotheses are nets: only he who casts will catch.

They gave our Master a crown of thorns, why do we hope for a crown of roses?

A man content to go to heaven alone will never go to heaven.

The more you let go. The more you are whole.

How can I be anywhere that I am, when I dream of being everywhere that I’m not?

Everyone, whether he is self-denying or self-indulgent, is seeking after the Beloved. Every place may be the shrine of love, whether it be mosque or synagogue.

Sleep and death, two twins of winged race, Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace.

Who would give a law to lovers? Love is unto itself a higher law.

The loss of life is only truly felt by the living.