Live the beauty or your own reality.
We’re making it up. The world, the universe, life, reality. Especially reality.
Christianity is merely a system for turning priestesses into handmaidens, queens into concubines, and goddesses into muses.
The price of self-destiny is never cheap, and in certain situations it is unthinkable. But to achieve the marvelous, it is precisely the unthinkable that must be thought.
People are never perfect, but love can be.
If by the quarter of the twentieth century godliness wasn’t next to something more interesting than cleanliness, it might be time to reevaluate our notions of godliness.
There are essential and inessential insanities. The later are solar in character, the former are linked to the moon.
Every individual has to assume responsibility for his or her own actions, even the poor and the young. A social system that decrees otherwise is inviting intellectual atrophy and spiritual stagnation.
Anyone who maintains absolute standards of good and evil is dangerous. As dangerous as a maniac with a loaded revolver.
He who jokes in the executioners face can be destroyed, but never defeated.
Why procrastinate when you can precognitate?
At birth, we emerge from dream soup. At death, we sink back into dream soup. In between soups, there is a crossing of dry land. Life is a portage.
Life is too small a container for certain individuals. Some of them, such as Alobar, huff and puff and try to expand the container. Others, such as Kudra, seek to pry the lid off and hop out.
On their sofas of spice and feathers, the concubines also slept fretfully. In those days the Earth was still flat, and people dreamed often of falling over edges.
Early religions were like muddy ponds with lots of foliage. Concealed there, the fish of the soul could splash and feed. Eventually, however, religions became aquariums. Then hatcheries. From farm fingerling to frozen fish stick is a short swim.
All a person can do in this life is gather about him his integrity, his imagination, and his individuality – and with these ever with him, out front and in sharp focus, leap into the dance of experience.
Every day is Judgement Day. Always has been. Always will be.
This is the room where Jezebel frescoed her eyelids with history’s tragic glitter.
It is better to be small, colorful, sexy, careless, and peaceful, like the flowers, than large, conservative, repressed, fearful, and aggressive, like the thunder lizards; a lesson, by the way, that the Earth has yet to learn.
Don’t trust anybody who’d rather be grammatically correct than have a good time.