There is only one thing that a man really wants to do, all his life; and that is, to find his way to his God, his Morning Star, salute his fellow man, and enjoy the woman who has come the long way with him.
It is our business to go as we are impelled.
The human consciousness is really homogeneous. There is no complete forgetting, even in death.
Men always do leave off really thinking, when the last bit of wild animal dies in them.
Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.
Having achieved and accomplished love... man... has become himself, his tale is told.