My Soul Comes From Better Worlds And

It Was Certainly Not This Mummified And Outrageously Painted Old Woman He Was Seeing Before Him, But The Entire "female Species," As It Was His Custom To Call Women. The Individual Disappeared, The Features Were Obliterated, Whether Young Or Senile, Beautiful Or Ugly - Those Were Mere Unimportant Variations. Behind Each Woman Rises The Austere, Sacred And Mysterious Face Of Aphrodite.

No Wide Road Leads To God.

I Hope For Nothing. I Fear Nothing. I Am Free.

How Could I, Who Loved Life So Intensely, Have Let Myself Be Entangled For So Long In That Balderdash Of Books And Paper Blackened With Ink!

My Principle Anguish And The Source Of All My Joys And Sorrows From My Youth Onward Has Been The Incessant, Merciless Battle Between The Spirit And The Flesh.