Voyage To Arcturus Quotes

You may be sure that a question which requires music for an answer can't be put into words.

Can the memory of love be worth more than its presence and reality?

Attach yourself to truth, not to me. For I may die before you, but the truth will accompany you to your death.

I dream with open eyes,' he answered, looking around at the door, 'and others see my dreams. That is all.

Who knows what any man can do?

Leave the past alone, it cannot be reshaped. The future alone is ours. It starts fresh and clean from this very minute.

Promise this — never to raise your hand against a living creature, either to strike, pluck, or eat, without first recollecting its mother, who suffered for it.

Where do you come from?" "From the planet of a distant sun, called Earth." "What for?" "I was tired of vulgarity.

Someone has described love to you. You have had it described to you. You have heard that it is a small, fearful, selfish joy. It is not that—it is wild, and scornful, and sportive, and bloody.... How should you know.

He who is always anxious to teach will learn nothing.

To be a free man, one must have a universe of one's own,

A natural man lives for himself; a lover lives for others.

Just as blue is delicate and mysterious, yellow clear and unsubtle, and red sanguine and passionate, so he felt ulfire to be wild and painful, and jale dreamlike, feverish, and voluptuous.

He was travel stained, unkempt, and very tired, but his soul was at peace.

It makes all the difference whether one sees darkness through the light, or brightness through the shadows

He who studies himself at all is ignoble. Only by despising soul as well as body can a man enter true life.

Feelings which flourish on illusions, and sicken and die on realities, aren't worth considering.

His forehead, however, was disfigured by what looked like a haphazard assortment of eyes, eight in number, of different sizes and shapes. They went in pairs, and whenever two were in use, it was indicated by a peculiar shining - the rest remained dull, until their turn came. In addition to the upper eyes he had the two lower ones, but they were vacant and lifeless. This extraordinary battery of eyes, alternatively alive and dead, gave the young man an appearance of almost alarming mental activity.

He gazed upward at the towering mountain, but at that moment some strange movements on the part of Panawe attracted his attention. His face was working convulsively, and he began to stagger about. Then he put his hand to his mouth and took from it what looked like a bright-coloured pebble. He looked at it carefully for some seconds. Joiwind also looked, over his shoulder, with quickly changing colors. After this inspection, Panawe let the object—whatever it was—fall to the ground, and took no more interest in it. "May I look?" asked Maskull; and, without waiting for permission, he picked it up. It was a delicately beautiful egg-shaped crystal of pale green. "Where did this come from?" he asked queerly. Panawe turned away, but Joiwind answered for him. "It came out of my husband." "That's what I thought, but I couldn't believe it. But what is it?" "I don't know that it has either name or use. It is merely an overflowing of beauty." "Beauty?" Joiwind smiled. "If you were to regard nature as the husband, and Panawe as the wife, Maskull, perhaps everything would be explained." Maskull reflected. "On Earth," he said after a minute, "men like Panawe are called artists, poets, and musicians. Beauty overflows into them too, and out of them again. The only distinction is that their productions are more human and intelligible." "Nothing comes from it but vanity," said Panawe, and, taking the crystal out of Maskull's hand, he threw it into the lake.

Where a bad tree thrives, a good tree will flourish. But where no tree at all can be found, nothing will grow.