“To die is to go into the Collective Unconscious, to lose oneself in order to be transformed into form, pure form.”

Faith and doubt go hand in hand, they are complementaries. One who never doubts will never truly believe.

Art is the contemplation of the world in a state of grace.

Never is a man wholly a saint or a sinner.

I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me.

Loneliness is the way by which destiny endeavors to lead man to himself.

Love your suffering. Do not resist it, do not flee from it. It is only your aversion to it that hurts, nothing else.

We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness.

Life is waiting everywhere, the future is flowering everywhere, but we only see a small part of it and step on much of it with our feet

If I know what love is, it is because of you.

Seriousness is an accident of time. It consists of putting too high a value on time. In eternity there is no time. Eternity is a moment, just long enough for a joke.

All life was a breath exhaled by God. All dying was a breath inhaled by God.

I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.

A man who is ill-adjusted to the world is always on the verge of finding himself. One who is adjusted to the world never finds himself, but gets to be a cabinet minister.

God does not send us despair in order to kill us; he sends it in order to awaken us to new life.

Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.

What you call passion is not spiritual force, but friction between the soul and the outside world.

By the time a person has achieved years adequate for choosing a direction, the die is cast and the moment has long since passed which determined the future.

I’ll be making music ’til the day I die. I’ve done all kinds of stuff, and more is coming.

Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.

Do not feel safe. The poet remembers. You can kill one, but another is born. The words are written down, the deed, the date.

That which is so universal as death must be a benefit.

What delights, what pleasures does your life offer you that outweigh the raptures of death?

A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death.

Call no man happy until he is dead.