“Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.”
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No one who has lived even for a fleeting moment for something other than life in its conventional sense and has experienced the exaltation that this feeling produces can then renounce his new freedom so easily.
Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.
Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.
Nothing retains less of desire in art, in science, than this will to industry, booty, possession.
