Unless we submit our will to the flooding of life, there is no life in us.
The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
We have lost the art of living, and in the most important science of all, the science of daily life, the science of behavior, we are complete ignoramuses. We have psychology instead.
We have to hate our immediate predecessors to get free of their authority.
We know that we are living in a state of falsity, that all our social and religious form is dead, a crystallized lie.
We need not feel ashamed of flirting with the zodiac. The zodiac is well worth flirting with.
We only seem to learn from Life that Life doesn't matter so much as it seemed to do--it's not so burningly important, after all, what happens. We crawl, like blinking sea-creatures, out of the Ocean onto a spur of rock, we creep over the promontory bewildered and dazzled and hurting ourselves, then we drop in the ocean on the other side: and the little transit doesn't matter so much.
What is pornography to one man is the laughter of genius to another.
What we want is some sort of communism not based on wages, nor profits, nor any sort of buying and selling but on a religion of life.
You'll never succeed in idealizing hard work. Before you can dig mother earth you've got to take off your ideal jacket. The harder a man works, at brute labor, the thinner becomes his idealism, the darker his mind.