(there is) no other means of escaping from one's consciousness than to deny it, to look upon it as an organic disease of the terrestrial intelligence - a disease which we must endeavor to cure by an action which must appear to us an action of violent and willful madness, but which, on the other side of our appearances, is probably an action of health. ("Of Immortality")

Human unhappiness is evidence of our immortality.

We are constantly immersed in a network of signs and symbols whose meaning eludes us, but which, if only we could read them, would reveal every detail of our past and even predict our future. Like anticipatory echoes, they tingle in our consciousness, building in crescendo until the event they herald becomes fully manifest. Afterwards, they linger for a time before being drowned out by a new tide of signs rushing in upon us. Such signatures are everywhere...

Falling in love with a writer is a dangerous thing, isn't it? The only thing you get out of it sometimes is immortality.

There is something way more bigger than just being a writer. Being a writer doesn__ mean you just write about things because you want that. It means that you are capable to feel this world and every emotion deepest than you can, and you__e just sharing that with people all around the world. It means that there is something common between infinity and writing. Writing makes me feel immortal. You just can__ stop, cause there are endless words inside of you_

Most of [the alchemists] were poor; many all but unknown in their own time, many died and saw no fruit of their labours_ Of some the very names are forgotten. But though their names be dead, their works live, and grow and spread over ever fresh generations of youth, showing them fresh steps towards that temple of wisdom which is the knowledge of things as they are.