He Who Does Not Lie Does Not

Every Tradition Grows Continually More Venerable, And The More Remote Its Origins, The More This Is Lost Sight Of. The Veneration Paid The Tradition Accumulates From Generation To Generation, Until It At Last Becomes Holy And Excites Awe.

We Talk So Abstractly About Poetry Because All Of Us Are Usually Bad Poets.

Man, Full Of Emptiness And Torn Apart With Homesickness For The Desert Has Had To Create From Within Himself An Adventure, A Torture-chamber, An Unsafe And Hazardous Wilderness- This Fool, This Prisoner Consumed With Longing And Despair, Became The Inventor Of 'bad Conscience'.

I Obviously Do Everything To Be "hard To Understand" Myself

I Love Him Whose Soul Is Deep Even In The Wounding