In Reality, The Past Is Preserved By

There Is No Greater Joy Than That Of Feeling Oneself A Creator. The Triumph Of Life Is Expressed By Creation.

To Exist Is To Change, To Change Is To Mature, To Mature Is To Go On Creating Oneself Endlessly.

Some Other Faculty Than The Intellect Is Necessary For The Apprehension Of Reality.

Is It Astonishing That, Like Children Trying To Catch Smoke By Closing Their Hands, Philosophers So Often See The Object They Would Grasp Fly Before Them?

For Life Is Tendency, And The Essence Of A Tendency Is To Develop In The Form Of A Sheaf, Creating, By Its Very Growth, Divergent Directions Among Which Its Impetus Is Divided.