I cannot be grasped in the here and now,
For my dwelling place is much among the dead,
As the yet unborn,
Slightly closer to the heart of creation than usual,
But still not close enough.

Satire must not be a kind of superfluous ill will, but ill will from a higher point of view. Ridiculous man, divine God. Or else, hatred against the bogged-down vileness of average man as against the possible heights that humanity might attain.

A line is a dot that went for a walk.

He has found his style, when he cannot do otherwise.

A single day is enough to make us a little larger.

Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible.