Everything has beauty, 

but not everyone sees it.

I am the wilderness lost in man

I shall not submit to injustice from anyone. 

I shall conquer untruth by truth. 

And in resisting untruth, I shall put up with all suffering.

A man who does not think for himself does not think at all.

You are gone 

and I am with you: 

this will never come again.

Humanity needs practical men, who get the most out of their work, and, without forgetting the general good, safeguard their own interests. But humanity also needs dreamers, for whom the disinterested development of an enterprise is so captivating that it becomes impossible for them to devote their care to their own material profit.

Without doubt, these dreamers do not deserve wealth, because they do not desire it. Even so, a well-organised society should assure to such workers the efficient means of accomplishing their task, in a life freed from material care and freely consecrated to research.

All the gods,

all the heavens,

all the hells

are in you.

There's a story in an ancient play about birds called The Birds

And it's a short story from before the world began

From a time when there was no earth, no land.

Only air and birds everywhere.

But the thing was there was no place to land.

Because there was no land.

So they just circled around and around.

Because this was before the world began.

And the sound was deafening. Songbirds were everywhere.

Billions and billions and billions of birds.

And one of these birds was a lark and one day her father died.

And this was a really big problem because what should they do with the body?

There was no place to put the body because there was no earth.

And finally the lark had a solution.

She decided to bury her father in the back of her own head.

And this was the beginning of memory.

Because before this no one could remember a thing.

They were just constantly flying in circles.

Constantly flying in huge circles.

A silk mist on a fallen day

I can see for miles and miles and miles

The wind is cold it hasn't got a lot to say

Fields of little moments to take with me

I dare not say a word.

And none of you stand so tall

Pink moon gonna get ye all

The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself.

The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, 

a metaphor for a proof, 

a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, 

and oneself for an oracle, 

is inborn in us.

We are moved to tears by a beautiful piece of music

and we describe the performance as 'magical'.

We gaze up at the stars on a dark night with no moon and no city lights

and, breathless with joy, we say the sight is 'pure magic'.

Mythology is composed by poets out of their insights and realisations. 

Mythologies are not invented; they are found. 

You can no more tell us what your dream is going to be tonight than we can invent a myth. 

Myths come from the mystical region of essential experience.

In my end is my beginning.