You have striven so hard, and so long, to compel life. Can't you now slowly change, and let life slowly drift into you ... let the invisible life steal into you and slowly possess you.
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.
I like to write when I feel spiteful. It is like having a good sneeze.