Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken.
Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
But giving life is not so easy.
(From: We Are Transmitters)
It is a fine thing to establish one’s own religion in one’s heart, not to be dependent on tradition and second-hand ideals. Life will seem to you, later, not a lesser, but a greater thing.
Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion.
God doesn’t know things. He is things.
God is only a great imaginative experience.
A man has no religion who has not slowly and painfully gathered one together, adding to it, shaping it; and one’s religion is never complete and final, it seems, but must always be undergoing modification.
My great religion is a belief in the blood, the flesh, as being wiser than the intellect. We can go wrong in our minds. But what our blood feels and believes and says, is always true. The intellect is only a bit and a bridle.