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Myth is an attempt to narrate a whole human experience, of which the purpose is too deep, going too deep in the blood and soul, for mental explanation or description.
I am in love - and, my God, it is the greatest thing that can happen to a man. I tell you, find a woman you can fall in love with. Do it. Let yourself fall in love. If you have not done so already, you are wasting your life.
California is a queer place in a way, it has turned its back on the world, and looks into the void Pacific. It is absolutely selfish, very empty, but not false, and at least, not full of false effort.
It is quite true, as some poets said, that the God who created man must have had a sinister sense of humor, creating him a reasonable being, yet forcing him to take this ridiculous posture, and driving him with blind craving for this ridiculous performance.
Towns oftener swamp one than carry one out onto the big ocean of life.
The only history is a mere question of one's struggle inside oneself. But that is the joy of it. One need neither discover Americas nor conquer nations, and yet one has as great a work as Columbus or Alexander, to do.
The true artist doesn't substitute immorality for morality. On the contrary, he always substitutes a finer morality for a grosser one.
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.
The refined punishments of the spiritual mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack.
The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
The fairest thing in nature, a flower, still has its roots in earth and manure.
Psychoanalysis is out, under a therapeutic disguise, to do away entirely with the moral faculty in man.
The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men! Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?
The proper study of mankind is man in his relation to his deity.
One can no longer live with people: it is too hideous and nauseating. Owners and owned, they are like the two sides of a ghastly disease.
Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!
I hold that the parentheses are by far the most important parts of a non-business letter.
My God, these folks don't know how to love - that's why they love so easily.
Never trust the artist. Trust the tale. The proper function of the critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.
Loud peace propaganda makes war seem imminent.
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