Summoned Or Not, The God Will Come.

A Man Likes To Believe That He Is The Master Of His Soul. But As Long As He Is Unable To Control His Moods And Emotions, Or To Be Conscious Of The Myriad Secret Ways In Which Unconscious Factors Insinuate Themselves Into His Arrangements And Decisions, He Is Certainly Not His Own Master.

The Biographies Of Great Artists Make It Abundantly Clear That The Creative Urge Is Often So Imperious That It Battens On Their Humanity And Yokes Everything To The Service Of The Work, Even At The Cost Of Health And Ordinary Human Happiness. The Unborn Work In The Psyche Of The Artist Is A Force Of Nature That Achieves Its End Either With Tyrannical Might Or With The Subtle Cunning Of Nature Herself, Quite Regardless Of The Personal Fate Of The Man Who Is Its Vehicle.

The Distinction Between Mind And Body Is An Artificial Dichotomy, A Discrimination Which Is Unquestionably Based Far More On The Peculiarity Of Intellectual Understanding Than On The Nature Of Things.

Medicines Cure Diseases, But Only Doctors Can Cure Patients.

Man Is The Mirror God Holds Up To Himself, The Sense Organ With Which He Apprehends His Being.