The Great Man... is colder, harder, less hesitating, and without fear of 'opinion'; he lacks the virtues that accompany respect and 'respectability,' and altogether everything that is the 'virtue of the herd.' If he cannot lead, he goes alone... He knows he is incommunicable: he finds it tasteless to be familiar... When not speaking to himself, he wears a mask. There is a solitude within him that is inaccessible to praise or blame.

Like the creatures of the forest and the sea, I love to lose myself for a while.

What do you plan to do in the land of the sleepers? You have been floating in a sea of solitude, and the sea has borne you up. At long last, are you ready for dry land? Are you ready to drag yourself ashore?

There must be a better way to make the things we want, a way that doesn't spoil the sky, or the rain or the land.

A wave is never found alone, but is mingled with the other waves.

The soil in return for her service keeps the tree tied to her, the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.