Sometimes we behave as though there was something more important than life. But what?

Once you are my friend, I am responsible for you.

You know...my flower...I'm responsible for her. And she's so weak! And so naive. She has four ridiculous thorns to defend her against the world.

But games always cover something deep and intense, else there would be no excitement in them, no pleasure, no power to stir us.

So the crew fly on with no thought that they are in motion. Like night over the sea, they are very far from the earth, from towns, from trees. The clock ticks on. The dials, the radio lamps, the various hands and needles go though their invisible alchemy. . . . and when the hour is at hand the pilot may glue his forehead to the window with perfect assurance. Out of oblivion the gold has been smelted: there it gleams in the lights of the airport.

Pure logic is the ruin of the spirit.

The house, the stars, the desert -- what gives them their beauty is something that is invisible!