I was dead. I was a woman who had divorced her soul

The tears that you spill, the sorrowful, are sweeter than the laughter of snobs and the guffaws of scoffers.

For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks." Thus I became a madman.

My enemy said to me, "Love your enemy." And I obeyed him and loved myself.

Vain are the beliefs and teachings that make man miserable, and false is the goodness that leads him into sorrow and despair, for it is man's purpose to be happy on this earth and lead the way to felicity and preach its gospel wherever he …

Let us disperse from our aloofness and serve the weak who made us strong, and cleanse the country in which we live. Let us teach this miserable nation to smile and rejoice with heaven's bounty and glory of life and freedom.

I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves, and behold the reality beneath.