The plan is not what you think.

In the days of the frost seek an minor sun.

There is nothing very 'normal' about nature.

We cannot pluck a flower witout disturbing a star.

I no longer cared about survival...I merely loved.

Every man contains within himself a ghost continent.

One could not pluck a flower without troubling a star.

At the core of the universe, the face of God wears a smile

If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.

I love forms beyond my own, and regret the borders between us

I am what I am and cannot be otherwise because of the shadows.

Modern man lives increasingly in the future and neglects the present.

Tomorrow lurks in us, the latency to be all that was not achieved before.

Like the herd animals we are, we sniff warily at the strange one among us.

The secret, if one may paraphrase a savage vocabulary, lies in the egg of night.

When man becomes greater than nature, nature, which gave him birth, will respond.

To have dragons one must have change; that is the first principle of dragon lore.

One does not meet oneself until one catches the reflection from an eye other than human.

From the solitude of the wood, (Man) has passed to the more dreadful solitude of the heart.

Many of us who walk to and fro upon our usual tasks are prisoners drawing mental maps of escape.

It was the failures who had always won, but by the time they won they had come to be called successes.

The great artist, whether he be musician, painter, or poet, is known for this absolute unexpectedness.

The iron did not remember the blood it had once moved within, the phosphorous had forgot the savage brain.

Each and all, we are riding into the dark. Even living, we cannot remember half the events of our own days.

Choices, more choices than we like afterward to believe, are made far backward in the innocence of childhood.

God knows how many things a man misses by becoming smug and assuming that matters will take their own course.

I am not nearly so interested in what monkey man was derived from as I am in what kind of monkey he is to become.

The freedom to create is somehow linked with facility of access to those obscure regions below the conscious mind.

In the desert, an old monk had once advised a traveler, the voices of God and the Devil are scarcely distinguishable.

It is frequently the tragedy of the great artist, as it is of the great scientist, that he frightens the ordinary man.

You think that way as you begin to get grayer and you see pretty plainly that the game is not going to end as you planned.

Each one of us is a statistical impossibility around which hover a million other lives that were never destined to be born.

Man is always marveling at what he has blown apart, never at what the universe has put together, and this is his limitation.

It has been asserted that we are destined to know the dark beyond the stars before we comprehend the nature of our own journey.

Fire, as we have learned to our cost, has an insatiable hunger to be fed. It is a nonliving force that can even locomote itself.

Life, unlike the inanimate, will take the long way round to circumvent barrenness. A kind of desperate will resides even in a root.

I was a shadow among shadows brooding over the fate of other shadows that I alone strove to summon up out of the all-pervading dusk.

Each man deciphers from the ancient alphabets of nature only those secrets that his own deeps possess the power to endow with meaning.

I am older now, and sleep less, and have seen most of what there is to see and am not very much impressed any more, I suppose, by anything.

Subconsciously the genius is feared as an image breaker; frequently he does not accept the opinions of the mass, or man's opinion of himself.

Without the gift of flowers and the infinite diversity of their fruits, man and bird, if they had continued to exist at all, would be today unrecognizable.

What if I am, in some way, only a sophisticated fire that has acquired an ability to regulate its rate of combustion and to hoard its fuel in order to see and walk?

The future is neither ahead nor behind, on one side or another. Nor is it dark or light. It is contained within ourselves; its evil and good are perpetually within us.

Man inhabits a realm half in and half out of nature, his mind reaching forever beyond the tool, the uniformity, the law, into some realm which is that of the mind alone.

When the human mind exists in the light of reason and no more than reason, we may say with absolute certainty that Man and all that made him will be in that instant gone.

The journey is difficult, immense. We will travel as far as we can, but we cannot in one lifetime see all that we would like to see or to learn all that we hunger to know.

As for men, those myriad little detached ponds with their own swarming corpuscular life, what were they but a way that water has of going about beyond the reach of rivers?

Mind is locked in matter like the spirit Ariel in a cloven pine. Like Ariel, men struggle to escape the drag of the matter they inhabit, yet it is the spirit that they fear.

For the first time in four billion years a living creature had contemplated himself and heard with a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, the whisper of the wind in the night reeds.

Primitives of our own species, even today are historically shallow in their knowledge of the past. Only the poet who writes speaks his message across the millennia to other hearts.

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