“The novel is the one bright book of life. Books are not life. They are only tremulations on the ether. But the novel as a tremulation can make the whole man alive tremble.”

For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.

What the eye doesn’t see and the mind doesn’t know, doesn’t exist.

Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.

All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity.

There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.

One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it, and the journey is always towards the other soul.

Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it.

She was not herself–she was not anything. She was something that is going to be–soon–soon–very soon. But as yet, she was only imminent.

For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.

If a woman hasn’t got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she’s a dry stick as a rule.

A man could no longer be private and withdrawn. The world allows no hermits.

Be a good animal,true to your instincts.

Things men have made with wakened hands, and put soft life into are awake through years with transferred touch, and go on glowing for long years.

I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts or my thoughts the result of my dreams.

There’s lots of good fish in the sea, maybe, but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring, and if you’re not mackerel or herring yourself, you are likely to find very few good fish in the sea.

When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people.

The holes of oblivion do not exist. Nothing human is that perfect, and there are simply too many people in the world to make oblivion possible. One man will always be left alive to tell the story.

Our Experience Is Determined By Our Conscious Response, Not By Instincts.

I try so hard to cloak my impurity so that I can hide my shadows from everyone around me. I’ll summon this will, and instead, command it to keep myself alive.

If your humanity is dead, you need a lot of morality. If your humanity is alive and overflowing, you will naturally do the best for yourself and everyone around you.

Whatever you have to do right now, do it with absolute involvement. Only then will you know the sweetness of what it means to be conscious.

My original appearance now is impure and that is why I try so hard to hide it from everyone harder than I work on keeping myself alive.

Four wheels for Comfort. Two wheels for Love of Life. Stay alert and stay alive. Motorcycles are mean and magical at once.

As long as humanity lives inside me. I am alive.