It’s the pleasure of picking up the brush and seeing what happens.
The purpose of life is to remember.
There is something else to be said about this immediate, spontaneous way of working, and that is this: in such moments, one is playing at the game of creation.
Surrealism is merely the reflection of the death process. It is one of the manifestations of a life becoming extinct, a virus which quickens the inevitable end.
For a metaphysical treat stop at the Big Sur Inn, which is also a haven for stray cats and dogs. Life along the South Coast is just a bed of roses, with a few thorns and nettles interspersed.
Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes.
Imagination is the voice of the daring.
If one believes, then miracles occur.
We must be holy without holiness. We must be whole, complete. That’s being holy. Any other kind of holiness is false, a snare, and a delusion.
It is almost banal to say so yet it needs to be stressed continually: all is creation, all is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis.
Next to love friendship, in my opinion, is the most valuable thing life has to offer.
Why change the world? Change worlds!
All growth is a leap in the dark.
New York has a trip-hammer vitality which drives you insane with restlessness if you have no inner stabilizer.
The only peace, the only security, is in fulfillment.
Music is the can-opener of the soul.
Real love is never perplexed, never qualifies, never rejects, never demands. It replenishes, by grace of restoring unlimited circulation. It burns, because it knows the true meaning of sacrifice. It is life illuminated.
Somewhere along the way one discovers that what one has to tell is not nearly so important as the telling itself.
Don’t look for miracles. You yourself are the miracle.
Everyman, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths.