Dreams are only the image of outward things shown on an inward mirror. But the mirror is the soul's enclosing darkness.

creative thought seems prone to flower in symbols before it ripens to fruit.

dreams must not take the place of actual life, nor constitute themselves a cowardly escape from it, but become rather a sanctuary in which the overdriven mind and nerves may take refuge, a country on the outer edge of this confusion, bright with the shadow of eternity beyond.

happiness, unlike grief, does not clamor for a chronicler.

Civilization has developed executive powers far beyond its understanding.