The world we live in is a world of effects; the realm of true causes is hidden. If we should ever discover it we would be able to perform magic.

A brief rustling that broke off short, as if startled at itself, then deadly silence, that agonising, watchful hush, fraught with its own betrayal, that stretched each minute to an excruciating eternity.

There is nothing mysterious about it at all. It is only magic and sorcery – kishuf – that frighten men; life itches and burns like a hairshirt, but the rays from the sun of the spiritual world are mild and warming.

Shouldn’t we be speaking of something more important than life and death?

Man is firmly convinced that he is awake; in reality he is caught in a net of sleep and dreams which he has unconsciously woven himself.

Read the sacred writings of all the peoples on Earth. Through all of them runs, like a red thread, the hidden Science of attaining and maintaining wakefulness.

It is the narrow, hidden tracks that lead back to our lost homeland, what contains the solution to the last mysteries is not the ugly scar that life’s rasp leaves on us, but the fine, almost invisible writing that is engraved on our body.

Freude, die einen Anlaß braucht, ist nicht Freude, sondern Vergnügen.

Buchstaben zu empfinden, sie nicht nur mit den Augen in Büchern zu lesen, - einen Dolmetsch in mir selbst aufzustellen, der mir übersetzt, was die Instinkte ohne Worte raunen, darin muß der Schlüssel liegen, sich mit dem eigenen Innern durch klare Sprache zu verständigen, begriff ich.

Der Geschlechtstrieb ist das Joch vor dem Triumphwagen der Meduse, an den wir geschirrt sind.