“Whenever I take up a newspaper, I seem to see Ghosts gliding between the lines. There must be Ghosts all the country over, as thick as the sand of the sea. We are, one and all, so pitifully afraid of the light.”

In the decisive moment I won the victory over myself. I chose to live. And believe me, it takes courage to choose life under those circumstances.

Oh, yes–you can shout me down, I know! But you cannot answer me. The majority has might on its side–unfortunately; but right it has not.

I believe that, before all else, I’m a human being, no less than you.

When we dead awaken. We see that we have never lived.

There is something so indescribably sweet and satisfying in the knowledge that a husband or wife has forgiven the other freely, and from the heart.

Rob the average man of his life-illusion, and you rob him of his happiness at the same stroke.

What ought a man be? Well, my short answer is ‘himself’.

When you’ve sold yourself once for the sake of others, you don’t do it second time.

Writing has… been to me like a bath from which I have risen feeling cleaner, healthier, and freer.

Different people have different duties assigned them by Nature; Nature has given one the power or the desire to do this, the other that. Each bird must sing with his own throat.

It’s a liberation to know that an act of spontaneous courage is yet possible in this world. An act that has something of unconditional beauty.

The spectacles of experience; through them you will see more clearly a second time.

Oh courage, oh yes! If only one had that. Then life might be livable, in spite of everything.

The sea possesses a power over one’s moods that has the effect of a will. The sea can hypnotize. Nature in general can do so.

If I cannot be myself in what I write, then the whole is nothing but lies and humbug.

It is the very mark of the spirit of rebellion to crave for happiness in this life

I will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.

Please stop trying to make me the ghost of your past lover.

I project myself out through the glasses and across the street, a ghost in the morning sunlight, torn with disembodied lust.

I have blisters on my feet from dancing alone with your ghost.

Derek (Jeter) told me the ghosts would show up eventually!

I like to trace the ghosts of your fingers on the back of my hand. They read- I don’t know how to hold without you.

Let us honor the Holy Ghost.

Have we forgotten that there is a Holy Ghost, that we must insist upon walking on crutches when we might fly?