There are three requisites for growth without bound, and only three: the will to remake oneself, the genius to survive, and the strength to suffer.

Who would bring light must endure burning.

I am not interested in things getting better; what I want is more: more human beings, more dreams, more history, more consciousness, more suffering, more joy, more disease, more agony, more rapture, more evolution, more life.

For war is never some cosmic accident descending upon a people with all the chance and inevitability of asteroids falling like fire out of the heavens, but only the will and work of man.

We are the eyes through which the Univers observes itself and knows itself divine.

All men are warriors. And life for everything in our universe is nothing but war.

Shibui: a kind of beauty that only time can reveal. Shibui was the subtle beauty of grey and brown moss on an old rock. And the taste of an old wine which recalled a ripening of grapes and the perfect balance of sun, wind and rain – that too was shibui. Drisana’s face radiated shibui – ‘radiate’ was not quite the right word – her face revealed the grain of her character and her life’s experiences as if it were a piece of ivory painstakingly and beautifully carved by time.

The belly is the reason that man does not easily mistake himself for a god.

Before, you are wise; after, you are wise. In between you are otherwise.

Life moved ever outward into infinite possibilities and yet all things were perfect and finished in every single moment, their end attained.