You can have your cake and eat it. But my God, it will go rotten inside you.
I think societal instinct much deeper than sex instinct — and societal repression much more devastating.
Love's a dog in a manger.
The American grips himself, at the very sources of his consciousness, in a grip of care: and then, to so much of the rest of life, is indifferent. Whereas, the European hasn't got so much care in him, so he cares much more for life and living.
The spirit of the place is a strange thing. Our mechanical age tries to override it. But it does not succeed. In the end the strange, sinister spirit of the place, so diverse and adverse in differing places, will smash our mechanical oneness into smithereens.
Whatever God there is is slowly eliminating the guts and alimentary system from the human being, to evolve a higher, more spiritual being.
Sex and a cocktail: they both lasted about as long, had the same effect, and amounted to about the same thing.
A house o' women is as dead as a house wi' no fire, to my thinkin'. I'm not a spider as likes to corner myself. I like a man about, if he's only something to snap at.
One man isn't any better than another, not because they are equal, but because they are intrinsically other, that there is no termof comparison.
Don't be sucked in by the su-superior, don't swallow the culture bait, don't drink, don't drink and get beerier and beerier, do learn to discriminate.
I wonder which was more frightened among old tribes -- those bursting out of their darkness of woods upon all the space of light, or those from the open tiptoeing into the forests.
There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.
They wanted genuine intimacy, but they could not get even normally near to anyone, because they scorned to take the first steps, they scorned the triviality which forms common human intercourse.
That's how women are with me " said Paul. "They want me like mad but they don't want to belong to me.
How ravished one could be without ever being touched. Ravished by dead words become obscene and dead ideas become obsessions.
I believe that a man is converted when first he hears the low, vast murmur of life, of human life, troubling his hitherto unconscious self.
Homer was wrong in saying, "Would that strife might pass away from among gods and men!" He did not see that he was praying for the destruction of the universe.
The day of the absolute is over, and we're in for the strange gods once more.
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