“Our bodily eye findeth never an end, but is vanquished by the immensity of space.”

All things are in the Universe, and the universe is in all things: we in it, and it in us; in this way everything concurs in a perfect unity.

Since I have spread my wings to purpose high, The more beneath my feet the clouds I see, The more I give the winds my pinions free, Spurning the earth and soaring to the sky.

Desire urges me on, while fear bridals me.

I fought, and therefore, believed in my victory. There is more to the fact that I didn’t fear death and preferred a brave death instead of a life of an idiot.

I who am in the night will move into the day.

Thus is the excellence of God magnified and the greatness of His kingdom made manifest;

There is in the universe neither center nor circumference.

One only is immutable, eternal and ever endures, one and the same with itself. With this philosophy my spirit grows, my mind expands.

I beg you, reject antiquity, tradition, faith, and authority! Let us begin anew by doubting everything we assume has been proven!

Everywhere there is incessant relative change in position throughout the universe, and the observer is always at the center of things.

God is infinite, so His universe must be too.

The Divine Light is always in man, presenting itself to the senses and to the comprehension, but man rejects it.

The universe is then one, infinite, immobile. … It is not capable of comprehension and therefore is endless and limitless, and to that extent infinite and indeterminable, and consequently immobile.

The gems of philosophy are not less precious because they are not understood.

Those wise men knew God to be in things, and Divinity to be latent in Nature, working and glowing differently in different subjects and succeeding through diverse physical forms, in certain arrangements, in making them participants in her, I say, in her being, in her life and intellect.

Without her presence nothing would have being, because she is the essence of the existence of the first unto the last being.

What is art but a way of seeing?

Nothing left to do but smile.

The problem in Afghanistan is really not so much land as water. It’s a dry country with ample amounts of water running through it, but not to good enough effect.

I probably should put a little more energy into it.

But more subtly the written press, are quite spectacular powers of unreason and ignorance.

For this occurs just as clay is first molded into one, then shaped into another form, for the Devil is a potter and his witches are but clay.

And trust dies from ifs and buts

You have work anytime. But love? Not always.