“In the World through which I travel, I am endlessly creating myself.”

Tape recording declaring how he recited one of his poems in response to a question "What is your background?" (1992)
Shadowbox Studio
Context: I am a being of Heaven and Earth,
of thunder and lightning,
of rain and wind,
of the galaxies,
of the suns and the stars
and the void through which they travel.
The essence of nature,
eternal, divine that all men seek to know to hear,
known as the great illusion time,
and the all-prevailing atmosphere.
And now you know my background.

March 25, 1933
Diary entries (1914 - 1974)
Context: I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic — in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.

John Banville, The Art of Fiction No. 200 (2009)

https://twitter.com/wise_chimp/status/1488946174321205253?s=21

As translated in The Zen Poetry of Dōgen : Verses from the Mountain of Eternal Peace (1997) by Steven Heine, p. 61

Website notes to The Mask And Mirror http://www.quinlanroad.com/explorethemusic/maskandmirror.asp

De Tweede Helft, Ad de Visser, SUN, Nijmegen 1998, p. 107
from posthumous publications

2 October 1747
Letters to His Son on the Art of Becoming a Man of the World and a Gentleman (1774)

Journal Intime (1882), Quotes used in the Introduction by Ward
Context: I am a spectator, so to speak, of the molecular whirlwind which men call individual life; I am conscious of an incessant metamorphosis, an irresistible movement of existence, which is going on within me — and this phenomenology of myself serves as a window opened upon the mystery of the world. I am, or rather my sensible consciousness is, concentrated upon this ideal standing-point, this invisible threshold, as it were, whence one hears the impetuous passage of time, rushing and foaming as it flows out into the changeless ocean of eternity. After all the bewildering distractions of life — after having drowned myself in a multiplicity of trifles and in the caprices of this fugitive existence, yet without ever attaining to self-intoxication or self-delusion — I come again upon the fathomless abyss, the silent and melancholy cavern, where dwell 'Die Mütter,' where sleeps that which neither lives nor dies, which has neither movement nor change, nor extension, nor form, and which lasts when all else passes away.