Everything is a miracle. It is a miracle that one does not dissolve in one’s bath like a lump of sugar.

There are times when reality becomes too complex for oral communication. But legend gives it a form by which it pervades the whole world.

Nothing is so easy as to deceive one’s self; for what we wish, that we readily believe.

Have you ever, looking up, seen a cloud like to a centaur, a leopard, a wolf, or a bull?

In the society of men, the truth resides now less in what things are than in what they are not. Our social realities are so ugly if seen in the light of exiled truth, and beauty is almost no longer possible if it is not a lie.

I shall curse you with book and bell and candle.

Nothing from nothing ever yet was born.

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears the truth.

The believer in magic and miracles reflects on how to impose a law on nature—and, in brief, the religious cult is the outcome of this reflection.

In the past, men created witches; now they create mental patients.

There is not so contemptible a plant or animal that does not confound the most enlarged understanding.

Once something becomes discernible, or understandable, we no longer need to repeat it. We can destroy it.

God is alive. Magic is afoot.