Don't You Know That Every Perfect Life

You Proclaim That One Should Die For The Highest Virtues, Because You Take It For Granted That Nobody's Been Living For Them, Not Even For A Single Hour.

We Sometimes Have A Flash Of Understanding That Amounts To The Insight Of Genius, And Yet It Slowly Withers, Even In Our Hands - Like A Flower. The Form Remains, But The Colours And The Fragrance Are Gone.

With Its Claims To Profundity, Boldness And Originality, Thinking Still Limits Itself Provisionally To The Exclusively Rational And Scientific. ... As Soon As It Lays Hold Of The Feelings, It Becomes Spirit.

For Only Fools, Fanatics, And Mental Cases Can Stand Living At The Highest Pitch Of Soul; A Sane Person Must Be Content With Declaring That Life Would Not Be Worth Living Without A Spark Of That Mysterious Fire.

Time, Which Runs Through The World Like An Endless Tinsel Thread, Seemed To Pass Through The Centre Of This Room And Through The Centre Of These People And Suddenly To Pause And Petrify, Stiff, Still And Glittering... And The Objects In The Room Drew A Little Closer Together.